.,'.'.•.%■. .- • '■•' . '. 

•V'*'(':v' . '•'•*.■;''.■ 
iV ■>••.■'' !,''■. 

'\ '■/.'• "■■■ ■■ \ ' ■ 

, , ,1 . >> ' . .' ,".",■■■ ■ . 

,",,■;■.. 'Xi.' /.''•,'•'«'''.,'■ '' 

>i .'V '''V)*.' ';'•. ' 




Glass-C^ 3 O Z^ 
Book ^^-^tXs^ 



■$ 



} •' 



/ 



V 




r j/^ri//r/' c. y^j/?//r\ / 



WORKS 



FISHER AMES. 



COMPILED BY A NUMBER OF HIS FRIENDS. 



TO WHICH ARE PREFIXED. 



NOTICES 



OF HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER. 



XIHIL TETIGIT i^UOD NON ORNAVIT. 



BOSTON ; 



PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY T. B. WAIT 6" Co. 
COURT-STREET. 



1809. 



EI '601 



District of Massachusetts, to wit : 

B^ it remembered. That on the ninth day of February, in the thirty-third year of the 
Jndepi'iidence of the United States of America, Frances Ames, of the said district, has depos- 
ited in this office, the title ofa book, tlie right whereof she claims as proprietor, in the words 
following, to wit : " Works of Fisher Ames. Compiled by a number of liis Friends. To 
which are prefixed, Notices of his Life and Character. Nihil tetigit quod non omavit." 

In conformity to the Act of the Congress of the United States, entitled, " An act for the 
encouragement of learning by securing the copies of Maps, Charts, and Books to the authors 
and proprietoi-s of such copies, during the times therein mentioned ;" and also to an act en- 
titled, " An act supplementary to au act, entitled, an act for the encouragement of learning, 
by securing the copies of Maps, Charts, and Books, to the authors and proprietoi's of such 
copies during the times tlierein mentioned , and extending the benefits thereof to the arts of 
Designing, Engitix-ing, and Etching Historical, and other Prints." 

WILLIAM S. SHAW, 
Clerk of the District q/' Massachusetts- 



NOTICES 



OF THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF 



FISHER AMES. 



IVlR. AMES was distinguished among the eminent men of 
our country. All admitted, for they felt, his extraordinary 
powers ; few pretended to doubt, if any seemed to deny, the 
purity of his heart. His exemplary life commanded respect ; 
the charms of his conversation and manners won affection. 
He was equally admired and beloved. 

His publick career was short, but brilliant. Called into the 
service of his countiy in seasons of her most critical emer- 
gency, and partaking in the management of her councils 
during a most interesting period of her history, he obtained a 
place in the first rank of her statesmen, legislators, orators, 
and patriots. By a powerful and original genius, an impres- 
sive and uniform virtue he succeeded, as fully perhaps as any 
political character in a republick agitated by divisions ever did, 
in surmounting the two pernicious vices, designated by the 
inimitable biographer of Agricola, insensibility to merit on 
the one hand, and envy on the other. 

Becoming a private citizen, he still operated extensively 
upon the publick opinion and feeling by conversation and 



iv LIFE OF FISHER AMES. 

writing. When least in the publick eye, he remained the 
object of enthusiastick regard to his friends, and of fond reli- 
ance and hope to those lovers of his country who discern the 
connection betv/een the agency of a few and the welfare of 
the many ; whilst in the breasts of the community at large he 
engaged a sentiment of lively tenderness and peculiar respect. 

The sickness which difl'used an oppressive languor upon 
his best years, was felt to be a common miisfortune ; and the 
news of his death, though not unexpected, gave a pang of dis- 
tress to the hearts of thousands. Those inhabitants of the 
capital of Massachusetts who had always delighted to honour 
him, solicited his lifeless remains for the privilege of indulg- 
ing their grief, and evincing their admiration by funeral obse- 
quies. The sad rites being performed, those who had cher- 
ished his character and talents with such constant regard and 
veneration, and who felt their own and the publick loss in "his 
death with poignant afiFliclion, demanded a publication ol h.is 
works. They urged, that it would gratify their ii.ffection, 
reflect honour on his name, and be a voice of instruction and 
warning to his country. 

In compliance with their general and earnest wish this vo- 
lume is given to the world. Some account of the author's 
life and character is thought due, if not to his fame, yet to the 
interest which all have in those " who were born, and who have 
acted, as though they wei'e born for their country and for 
mankind." 

He needs not our praises ; he would be dishonoured by our 
flatteiy ; but he was our distinguished benefactor. We owe a 
record of this kind, though imperfectly executed, to our sense 
of his merits and services, and to our gratitude to heaven who 
endues some with extraordinary gifts to be employed for the 
benefit of others. It is the part of justice to afibrd to those 
who desire it all practicable lights to guide their judgment of 
an eminent man living in times and acting in situations, v/hich 
expose his character to be imperfectly understood. We must 
pay respect to that natural and laudable curiosity of mankind, 
which asks an explanation of the causes that may have contributed 



LIFE OP FISHER AMES. v 

to form any peculiar excellence in one of our species, and which 
takes an interest in the circumstances and events of his life. 
Examples of great talents diligently exerted, and of shining 
virtues practised with imiformity should be preserved and dis- 
played as furnishing models in conduct and incentives to excel- 
lence. By such exhibitions the timid ai'e encouraged and the 
inactive roused. Emulation fires generous spirits to endeav- 
our to fill the void made by the loss of the eminent. Are any 
capable of doing great and durable good to their country and 
the world, they are stimulated to ti-ead in the fair paths which 
have been trodden before ; and those whom nature and cir- 
cumstances have confined to a small compass of action are in- 
structed to place their single talent to the best account. 

Fisher Ames lived and died in his native place. He was 
born April 9, 1758, in the old parish of Dedham, a pleasant 
country town about nine miles south of Boston, and the shire 
town of Norfolk. He sprung from one of the oldest families 
in Massachusetts. In the line of his ancestry is the Rev. 
William Ames, a famous English divine, author of the Me- 
dulla Theologiae and several controversial tracts. He was 
educated at Christ's College, Cambridge, and to prevent an 
expulsion in form on account of his strenuous assertion of 
Calvinistical principles he forsook this college, went abroad, 
and was chosen by the states of Friesland professor of their 
university. He was at the synod of Dort, 1618. He had de- 
termined to emigrate to New-England, but was prevented by 
death in November, 1633. 

The father of Fisher Ames was a physician and the son 
of a physiciun who lived in Bridgewater. His mother was 
daughter of Jeremiah Fisher, Esq. one of the most respectable 
farmers m the county. Dr. Nathaniel Ames was a man of 
acuteness and wit, of great activity, and a cheerful and amiable 
temper. To his skill in his profession he added a knowledge 
of natural philosophy, astronomy, and mathematicks. He died 
in July, 1764, leaving four sons and one daughter. 

Fisher was the youngest child. The mother, as if ^'antici- 
pating the future lustre of the jewel committed to her care," 



vi LIFE OF FISHFIl AMES. 

early resolved to struggle with her narrow circumstances in 
order to give this son a literary education ; and she has lived 
to see his eminence and prosperity, to receive the expressions 
of his filial piety, and to weep over his grave. 

It has been observed, that those who are prodigies of infent 
genius often disappoint the expectations they have raised, 
whilst minds of no peculiar promise and even of tardy growth 
in early years have been known at length to bear vigorous 
and lasting fruit. On the other hand it cannot be denied, 
that a great proportion of those who display extraordinary 
powers in mature life give indications of decided superiority 
in youth. The accounts of Mr. Ames prove the early expan- 
sion of his faculties. When he was six years old, he began 
the study of I.,atin. From this time till he entered the uni- 
versity he had a variety of instructers in succession. He at- 
tended the town school, when the master happened to be 
capable of teaching him, and at other times lecited his lessons 
to the Rev. Mr. Haven, minister of the parish, a gentleman 
to whom he always showed much respect and friendship. 

His frequent change of instructers and desultory application 
to the languages were obvious disadvantanges attending his ini- 
tiation in classical literature. He did not receive that exact and 
sedulous culture, which such a mind as his deserved and would 
have fully repaid. His native energies in a good degree sup- 
plied these defects and carried him forvvcU-d in the road of im- 
provement. In July, 1770, soon after the completion of his 
twelfth year, he was admitted to Harvard college. Previous 
to his being offered, he was examined by a gentleman accus- 
tomed to teach the languages, who expressed admiration of his 
(luickness and accuracy, and pronounced him a youth of un- 
common attainments, and bright promise. 

During this period he was remarkable for close application 
in the hours of study, and for animation and gaiety in the in- 
tervals of relaxation. He entci-ed the university, indeed, at 
too tender an age for the mind to grasp the abstract sciences. 
It is said, however, that in the literary exercises in general 
he was ready and accurate, and in particular branches distin- 



LIFE OF FISHER AaiES. vii 

guishecl. He very soon gained the reputation of shining parts. 
He was attentive to his studies and regular in his conduct. 
Young as he was, he did not abuse his power over that portion 
of his time which the laws of the institution submit to the dis- 
cretion of the student, by idleness and trifling ; nor his liberty 
of self-direclion in the choice of his associates, by consorting 
with the vicious. At that early period he might say, as he did 
when he came into life : " I have never sought friends, whom 
I was not willing and desirous to be known to have." 

It was not his fancy or his passion to break through the 
fences of discipline, or come into collision with the authority 
of his preceptors. He had a good standing with the govern- 
ment of the college, without losing any part of the friendship 
and esteem of his fellow-students. His tutors were accustom- 
ed to speak of his qualities with emphatick praise. There was 
a peculiar mildness and modesty in the character of young 
Ames, joined to a vivacity and pleasantness, that endeared him 
both to his superiours and equals. 

He was a favourite in a society, then recently formed among 
the students for improvement in elocution. It was early observ- 
ed, that he coveted the glory of eloquence. In his declamation 
before this society he was remarked for the energy and pro- 
priety, with which he delivered such specimens of impassioned 
oratory as his genius led him to select. As a task or voluntary 
trial of his skill, he produced occasionally a theme or oration, 
and was known sometimes to invoke the muse of poetry, 
though he affected then, as he did afterwards, to decline the 
reputation of a poetick talent. Probably he was never satisfied 
with the success of his attempts in an art, in which want of 
excellence is want of every thing. His compositions at this 
time bore the characteristick stamp which has always marked 
his speaking and writing. They were sententious and full of 
ornament. 

It is especially to be told, that the morals of the young col- 
legian passed the ordeal of a four years residence at the uni- 
versity unhurt. He surmounted the temptations to vice. 



viii 1>1FE OF FISHER AMES. 

perhaps inseparable from the place, and left it with an unsullied 
purity of sentiments and manners. 

Those who perceive the intimate dependance of one part of 
life on another, and the infinite consejuences of early impres- 
sions and habits, will discern the auspicious influence of his 
blameless youth upon his subsequent chai'acter and fortunes. 
They will ask, by what means he walked erect in a way where 
many stumble and f^Jl, and kept the treasure of his innocence 
in a region where the spoiler, in the form of seductive example, 
perverted sentiment, and unhallowed passion, so often assaults 
it with success. 

Fact unhappily demonstrates, that, in spite of what instruc- 
tion or discipline can do to check the causes or control the effects 
of youthful errours and passions, the college life is a severe 
experiment upon the strength of juvenile virtue. That degree 
of liberty, which is the necessary privilege of young men in a 
course of liberal education, is also the source of their imminent 
peril. In the instance of the subject of this notice, his tender 
age and his limited pecuniary means undoubtedly formed an 
important security against the worst excesses incident to the 
situation. But these accidental circumstances are far from 
insuring adequate sobriety and self-restraint, especially in those 
of ardent minds and highly excitable feelings. Happy disposi- 
tions and early good principles in a young man entering upon 
this doubtful course, are essential pledges of his safety. In 
such a one the vivacity of his mind and imagination, his lively 
spirits and warm affections are directed to objects that are 
laudable or safe : he is drawm to his literary pursuits by the 
allurement of pleasure, and places the point of honour in acting* 
well his part. His taste is manly and just ; he does not misc;.:! dis- 
sipation, enjoyment, nor revelry, mirth ; he has begun to take 
counsel from prudence, and to send his thoughts beyond the pre- 
sent moment. He has not beeii instructed in vain to ask himself 
for a reason of his conduct, to act by plan, and to look to the end. 
He has listened with solemriity to the injunction to beware of 
the first step imthe path of evil. He has some comprehension 



LIFE OF FISHER AMES. ix 

of the hazard of a first deviulion, the presumiJtion of timid 
liberties and dubious actions. That youn^; mun wiio answers 
to this description will, no doubt, resist both the terrour and the 
charm that make his discretion a)id virtue diHkult. Such was 
Mr. Ames through his college life, and, indeed, all that period 
when the most durable impressions are received and the moial 
bias is generally contracted. Happily, he did not need the 
smart of guilt to make him virtuous, nor the regret of folly to 
make him wise. He seems to have been early initiated in that 
caution and self-distrust, which he used afterwards to inculcate. 
He was accustomed to say : " we have but a slender ho^d of -our 
virtues ; they ought, therefore, to be cherished with care, and 
practised with diligence. He who holds parley with vice and 
dishonour is sure to become their slave and victim. The 
heart is more than half corrupted, that does not burn vvith 
indignation at the slightest attempt to seduce it." 

His spotless youth brought blessings to the whole remainder 
of his life. It gave him the entire use of his faculties, and all 
the fruit of his literary education. Its effects appeared in that 
fine edge of moral feeling which he always preserved ; in his 
strict and often austere temperance ; in his love of occupation, 
that made activity delight ; in his distaste for publick diversions, 
and his preference of simple pleasures. Beginning well, he 
advanced with unremitted steps in the race of virtue, and arriv- 
ed at the end of life in peace and honour. 

His parent had early directed his views to the study of law. 
Even before he entered college and while there he had spoken 
of a profession, and sometimes mentioned divinity or medi- 
cine ; but she had always aimed to determine his choice to the 
law, which he adopted as his destined pursuit. 

After receiving his degree in 1774, several years passed 
away before he entered on his professional studies. The 
straightened situation of his mother, obliged to provide for her 
other children, the doubtful and troubled aspect of the times, 
joined to the immaturity of his years, occasioned this delay of 
his proper occupation. During a part of this interval, he had 
recourse to that employment, which the school establishments 



X LIFE OF FISHER AMES. 

of New-England offer to young men of literary education and 
limited means of support, and which has been the first resort 
after leaving college of many of our distinguished men in all 
professions. 

This period, however, which engaged his services to the 
community, was not lost to himself. He improved his leisure by 
indulging his favourite propensity to books. During this time, 
as he frequently said, he read with avidity bordering on en- 
thusiasm almost every author within his reach. He revised the 
Latin classicks, which he had studied at college. He read 
works illustratmg Greek and Roman antiquities and the my- 
thology of the ancients ; natural and civil history, and some of 
the best novels. Poetry was both his food and luxury. He 
read the principal English poets, and became familiar with 
Milton and Shakespeare, dwelt on their beauties, and fixed 
passages of peculiar excellence on his memory. He had a 
high relish of the works of Virgil, and at this time could re- 
peat considerable portions of the Eclogues and Georgics and 
most of the splendid and touching passages of the iEneid. 
This multifarious, though, for want of a guide, indiscriminate, 
and, probably, in some instances ill-directed reading must have 
contributed to extend and enrich the mind of the young stu- 
dent. It helped to supply that fund of materials for speaking 
and writing which he possessed in singular abundance ; and 
hence partly he derived his remarkable fertility of allusion, his 
ability to evolve a train of imagery adapted to every subject of 
which he treated. 

Mr. Ames was a student at law in the office of William 
Tudor, Esq. of Boston, and commenced practice at Dedham 
in the autumn of the year 1781. He had already begun to 
show the " publick and private sense of a man." The contest 
of the States with the parent country awakened in him a lively 
interest. He espoused their cause, and, though too young to 
take an active part, watched its progress with patriotick con- 
cern. In one instance he was selected for a publick trust, 
which he discharged with an ability beyond his years. 



LIFE OF FISHER AMES. xi 

The inconveniences of a depreciated paper currency pro* 
ducing general discontent and in some cases acts of violence, 
a convention of delegates from every part of tlie state assem- 
bled at Concord with a view to devise a remedy for the evil. 
They agreed to regulate the prices of articles arbitrarily, and 
adjourned to the autumn. At the adjourned meeting Mr. 
Ames attended by delegation from his town. The plan adopt- 
ed at the prior meeting had failed, as was anticipated by the 
discerning, though it was still an object with many to continue 
the experiment. 

Mr. Ames displayed the subject in a lucid and impressive 
speech, shaving the futility of attempting to establish by power 
that value of things, which depended solely on consent ; that 
the embarrassment was inevitable, and that it must be met by 
patriotism and patience, and not by attempting to do what was 
impossible to be done. 

Mr. Ames began to be mentioned as a pleader of uncommon 
eloquence, when his appearance as an essay-writer contributed 
to raise and extend his reputation. The government of the 
state of Massachusetts was administered upon the principles 
of justice, which required that it should enforce the payment 
of private debts, and that publick credit should be supported. 
Various causes made these functions of the government dis- 
tressing or inconvenient to many of the people, whose discon- 
tents restless intriguing men artfully and industriously inflamed. 
The spirit of licentiousness broke out in an insurrection. The 
revolutionary fervour, which had been kindled in the war with 
Great Britain, seemed to threaten with destruction our own con- 
stitution and laws. Liberty was confounded with license ; and 
those who could not be governed by reason appeared to claim 
a right not to be governed by force. 

Lucius Junius Brutus wrote to animate the government 
to decision and energy ; and when the insurrection was sup- 
pressed, Camillus explained the lessons inculcated by the 
recent dangers and escapes of the country. These pieces 
were pronounced to be the production of no common mind. 
It was the light of genius and wisdom darted athwart the 



xii LIFE OF FISHER AMES. 

gloom of our political chaos. When they were traced to Mr. 
Ames, leading men in the state turned their eyes to him as 
one destined to render the most important services to his 
country. 

In the convention for ratifying the federal constitution in 
1788, he became conspicuous. The importance of the subject 
elevated and warmed liis mind. It was a decision on the ques- 
tion, whether this country should exhibit the awful spectacle 
of a people without a government. Within a few days after 
tiie opening of the convention, he delivered the speech on 
biennial elections ; and though its merit has been exceeded by 
his speeches since, its effect was uncommonly great. He 
showed that his opinion was then formed, that the principal 
danger to liberty in repubiicks arose from- popular factions. A 
democracy, said he, is a volcano, which conceals the fiery 
materials of its own destruction. He touched and illuminated 
other parts of the constitution in speeches, of which imperfect 
sketches only are preserved. 

He was chosen a member of the house of representatives in 
the state legislature which assembled May, 1788. Here he was 
active in some important measures. He was a zealous advocate 
of our town schools, as institutions calculated to elevate the 
character of the great body of the people, and to increase their 
enjoyments. In a political view, he thought the education 
gained in these places viould do more good by resisting delu- 
sion, than evil by furnishing means and incentives to ambition. 
In this legislature he took the lead in procuring the law, which 
placed our schools upon the present improved establishment. 

Such was the impression that the talents and character of 
Mr. Ames had made on the publick mind, that he was selected 
by the friends of the new government to be one of its conduc- 
tors and guardians. He was chosen the first representative 
to congress from the Suffolk district, which included the capi- 
tal of the state. 

Whether his fame, suddenly acquired and remarkably bril- 
liant, ^v'oukl endure, remcdned yet to be known. He had not, 
hoviever, been long in congress, before his friends were satis- 
fied, they had not formed too exalted ideas of his powers. 



LIFE OF FISHER AAIES. xiil 

During eight years, the whole of Washington's administration, 
Mr. Ames was a member of the house of representatives. 
Here, in the collision of active and powerful minds, in the con- 
sideration of questions of the highest moment, in the agitation 
of interests that included all our political good, he acted a prin- 
cipal part. This is not the place to explain the principles or 
merits of this administration. In praise of Washington, not 
with any thought of compliment to himself, Mr. Ames has 
observed : " that government was administered with such in- 
tegrity, without mystery, and in so prosperous a course, that 
it seemed wholly employed in acts of beneficence." 

In the course of this period the civil departments of the gov- 
ernment were established ; adequate provisions were made for 
the administration of justice, the maintenance of credit, and 
the final payment of a large floating debt; a system of internal 
taxation, which should be independent of the contmgences of 
foreign commerce, was matured and carried into effect ; the 
Indian tribes by a wise and humane system, combining justice 
and force, were made permanent friends ; a dangerous insur- 
rection was suppressed ; our differences with Spam and Great 
Britain were accommodated, and from the latter honoural)le 
recompense was obtained for injuries ; the country was rescued 
from the extreme peril of having its destinies mingled with 
those of France, and its fortune placed at her disposal. A 
multitude of subordinate interests, individual and publick, 
came within the care of government. Nerves were given to 
industry, and life to commerce. The oil of gladness brighten- 
ed the face of labour, iuid the whole country wore the smile of 
prosperity. 

In the duties of patriotism which were so successfully per- 
formed, Mr. Ames had a distintyuished share. On every im- 
portant question he took an active and responsible part. He 
gave all his time and all his powers to the publick business. 
The efforts of such men were the more necessary, because the 
government had to maintain its measures against a party, whose 
ze J was inextinguishable, and activity incessant ; and who ob- 
structed eveiy operation to the utmost of their power. 



Xiv LIFE OF FISHER AMES. 

From the commencement of the government the country 
Was believed to be deeply interested in the event of the bill for 
funding the publick debt. On the introduction of this bill the 
opposition gained vigour by the junction of one of the frumers 
and most able * supporters of the constitution, who from this 
time became the leader of the discontented party. He pro- 
posed to fund the debt, but in a way in which it was deem- 
ed impossible it should be funded. His pi'oposal, therefore, was 
viewed as tending to defeat the object which it professed 
to favour. At every stage of this momentous business Mr. 
Ames employed his resources of argument and eloquence, till 
the bill was passed into a law. 

The famous commercial resolutions of Mr. Madison, found- 
ed on a report of the secretary of state, Mr. Jefferson, were ap- 
prehended to put in great hazard our prosperity and indepen- 
dence. To subserve the interests of commerce was the pre- 
text; objects purely political, as Mr. Ames thought, were the 
motives. He insisted, that commerce could not be served by 
regulations, which should oblige us to " sell cheap and buy 
dear" ; and he inferred, that the effect of the resolutions could 
only be to gratify partialities and resentments, which all states- 
men should discard. 

His speech on the appropriation for the British treaty was 
an era of his political life. For many months he had been sink- 
ing under weakness, and though he had attended the long and 
interesting debate on this question, which involved the consti- 
tution and the peace of the United States, it was feared he 
would be unable to speak. But when the time came for tak- 
ing a vote so big with consequences, his emotions would not 
suffer him to be silent. His appearance, his situation, the mag- 
nitude of his subject, the force and the pathos of his eloquence 
gave this speech an extraordinaiy powei' over the feelings of 
the dignified and numerous assembly who heard it. When 
he had finished, a member in opposition moved to postpone 
the decision on the question, that they might not vote under 

* Mr. MadisoiK 



LIFE OF FISHER AMES. xv 

the influence of a sensibility, which their cahn judgment 
might condemn. 

At the close of the session, in the spring of 1796, Mf. 
Ames tnrvelled into Virginia for his health. He thought he 
derived partial benefit from drinking of the warm springs in 
Berkley county, and more from the journey and unremitting 
attention to regimen. In this visit he was an object of the 
most friendly and respectful attention, individual and publick. 
He found many friends of the Washington system in this 
state, whose representatives had taken the lead in opposition, 
observing in a letter, " Virginia has been misrepresented 
to us, as much as the measures of government have been to 
them ; and good men are no where generally hostile to the 
federal cause." 

At this time the college of New- Jersey expressed their 
estimation of his publick character by conferring on him theJ 
degree of Doctor of Laws. 

He gained sufficient health to be able to attend the next 
session of congress, and to enter into business, though not 
with all his usual spirit. He was chairman of the committee, 
which I'eported the answer to the president's speech. This 
answer contained a most affectionate and respectful notice of 
the president's declaration, that he now stood for the last time 
in their presence. In conclusion it said : "for your country's 
sake, for the sake of republican liberty it is our earnest wish, 
that your example may be the guide of your successors, and 
thus, after being the ornament and safeguard of the present 
age, become the patrimony of our descendants." In the 
debate on this answer he vindicated, with his accustomed 
openness and ability, the claim of Washington to the unquali- 
fied love and gratitude of the nation. 

The session being terminated, Mr. Ames, who had previ- 
ously declined another election, became a private citizen. He 
retired to his favoui'ite residence at Dedham, to enjoy repose 
in the bosom of his family, and to unite with his practice as a 
lawyer, those rural occupations in which he delighted. He 
applied to tlie management of his farm and fruitery a portion 



xvi LIFE OF FISHER AMES. 

of that ingenuity and activity, which he had bestowed on affairs 
of state. The excitability of his mind made him interested in 
whatever he undertook. The desire of usefuhiess and. a spirit 
of improvement directed all his plans and exertions. He re- 
sumed his practice, and appeared in important causes. He 
purposed to revise his law studies, and, for the sake of his 
■family, to make a business of his profession ; but he found the 
labours of the bar too severe a trial of his constitution, and af- 
ter a few years gradually relinquished this employment. 

He also found it impossible to withdrav/ his mind from poli- 
ticks. That eventful period in 1798, when the spirit of the 
nation co-opei'ated with the firmness of the administration in 
repelling the accumulated aggressions and reiterated indigni- 
ties of France, revived and animated all his publick sympa- 
thies. When the next year he perceived the reaction of the 
opposing party threatening to overpower the government, he 
wrote Laocoon and other pieces to restore the tone, to rekin- 
dle the zeal, to disturb the security, and shake the presump- 
tion of the federalists. " Our wisdom," says he, " framed a 
government, and committed it to our virtue to keep ; but our 
passions have engrossed it, and have armed our vices to main- 
tain the usurpation." 

While governour Sumner was in office, he accepted a seat 
in the council of the commonwealth. When Washington 
died, he pronounced his eulogy before the legislature. This 
pei'formance, though it contains touches of real pathos, is less 
impassioned than might at first be expected. The numerous 
funeral honours paid to the memory of this beloved man had 
already made a great demand on the publick sensibility. Mr. 
Ames chose rather to dwell on the political events and acts 
which illustrated his character, than merely to draw tears for 
his loss. This performance has obtained much praise for its 
just description, accurate discrimination, sententious wisdom, 
and calin, dignified eloquence. 

At length the apprehensions of Mr. Ames were realised in 
the downfal of the federal cause, and the constitution was 
transfen-ed to the custody of its opposers. 



LIFE OF FISHER AMES. xvii 

He had often said, that the government was maintained by 
eftbrts which would tii'e ox' be overpowered. He had seen, 
that it was attacked with unremitting fury, whilst the defence 
was irregular, inconstant, and feeble. 

To secure the country against the worst consequences 
which this change portended, and which he feared, though re- 
tarded, must soon begin to take place, he thought the presses 
should be sedulously employed by federal writers. He sidd, 
he did not expect by this means to make all the people politi- 
cians, or acute judges of men and measures, but to assist those 
who have influence over tlie opinions of the many to think 
correctly on ovu' affairs, and particularly to disabuse their m-inds 
of the false* theories of democracy. He did not calculate to 
restore the sceptre to federalism ; but to use his own expres- 
sion, he hoped, " to have the wise and good and the owners of 
the country a watchful minority, who, though they may be 
overcome, will not be deluded, and will save all that can be 
saved." 

He began from this time, and continued for two years to be 
a diligent writer of political essays. He then suspended his 
labour, but resumed it afterwards, and never entirely abandon- 
ed it, while he could hold his pen. These productions treat 
of subjects on which he had bestowed much thought and re- 
search, and which he had often discussed in Conversation with 
his friends. They were written, however, always with great 
rapidity ; often in the short intervals of a busy day, on a jour- 
ney, at an inn, or in a court-house. They show his insight 
into human nature, and his knowledge of the character of de- 
mocracy. They afford a strong proof of his ability to foresee 
the effects of political causes. 

Foreign politicks, both as affecting our own, and as inter- 
esting to humanity, passed under his pen. He beheld, he said, in 
the French revolution a " despotism of the mob or the military 
from the first, and hypocrisy of morals to the last." The 
policy, the principles, and the power of France in all its forms 
before the creation of the new dynasty, and under the present 
system of universal empire, always appeared to him big with 



xviii LIFE OF FISHER AMES. 

danger to the liberty of the world. The partiality to France 
in the national feelings of Americans he regarded as having a 
tendency at all times to corrupt and pervert American poli- 
ticks. Nothing can exceed the interest with which he watch- 
ed the efforts of Great Britain against the all -conquering and 
eccentrick ambition of France ; not only because he was just to 
the British nation and character ; but because he suw, that all 
our hopes of independence were staked upon the issue. 

Gn all these subjects Mr. Aisies was awake, while many 
others slept. What they saw obscurely, he saw clearly. What 
to them was distant affected him as near. The admission of 
danger implies duty ; and many refuse to be alarmed, because 
they wish to be at ease. The despondent think nothing ca7i 
be done ; the presumptuous nothing need be done. Consider- 
ing these facts and opinions, Mr. Ames's writings- will be 
acknowledged to have produced much effect. 

In the year 1804, Mr. Ames was chosen president of Har- 
vard College. His health would not have allowed him to ac- 
cept the place, had other reasons permitted. Though greatly 
interested in the education of the young, he did not think his 
habits adapted to the office, and therefore declined the honour. 

From 1795 his health continued to decline, with partial and 
flattering intermissions, until his death. He was a striking ex- 
ample of iricignanimity and patience under suffering. Retain- 
ing always the vigour and serenity of his mind, he appeared 
to make those reflections which became his situation. W'hen 
speaking of his first attack, he observes, " I trust T realise the 
value of those habits of thinking, which I have cherished for 
some time. Sickness is not wholly useless to me. It has in- 
creased the warmth of my affection to my friends. It has 
taught me to make haste in forming the plan of my life, if it 
should be spared, more for private duties and social enjoy- 
ments, and less for the splendid emptiness of publick station, 
than yet I have done." 

At length after an extreme debility for two years, the frame 
which had so long tottered was about to fall. With composure 
and dignity he saw the approach of his dissolution. He had 



LIFE OF FFSHER AMES. xix 

many reasons for wishing to live. The summons came to 
demand of his noon of life the I'esidue of a day which had been 
bright and fair ; of his love of fame the relinquishment cf all 
that respect and honour, which the world solicited him to re- 
ceive ; of his patriotism the termination of all his cares and 
labours for a country, which he loved with inextinguishable 
ardour ; of his conjugal affection a separation froih an object 
inexpressibly dear ; of his parental tenderness the surrender 
of his children to the chances and vicissitudes of life without 
his counsel and care. 

But these views of his condition did not sink his heart, 
which was sustained by pious confidence and hope. He ap- 
peared now what he always was, and rose in virtues in propor- 
tion to his trial, expressing the tenderest concern for those 
whom he should leave, and embracing in his solicitude his 
country and mankind. He expired on the morning of the 
fourth of July, 1808. When the intelligence reached Boston, 
a meeting of citizens was held with a view to testify their re- 
spect for his character and services. In compliance with 
their reqvxest his rema^ins were brought to the capital for in- 
terment, at which a eulogy was pronounced by his early 
friend Mr. Dexter, and every mark of respectful notice was 
paid. 

Funeral honours to publick characters, being customary 
offices of decorum and propriety, are necessarily eciuivocal 
testimonies of esteem. But Mr. Ames was a private man,, 
who was honoured because he was lamented. He was followed 
to the grave by a longer procession than has perhaps appeared 
on any similar occasion. It was a great assemblage, drawn by 
gratitude and admiration around the bier of one exalted in 
their esteem by his pre-eminent gifts, and endeared to their 
hearts by the surpassing loveliness of his disposition. 

Having taken notice of the history of Mr. Ames, we are 
required to present some additional views of his talents, opin- 
ions, and character. The reader of his works will, no doubt, 
concur with those who knew him and who heard him in pub- 
lick and private, in saying, that he had a mind of high order, 



Ss LIFE OF FISHER AMES. 

in some particulars of the highest, and that he has a just claim 
to be chissed with the men of genius, that quality which it is 
so much more easy to discern than to define ; " that quality, 
without which judgment is cold and knowledge inert; that 
energy, which collects, combines, amplifies, and animates." 
We observe in Mr. Ames a liberal portion of all the faculties 
and qualities that enter into this character, understanding, me- 
mory, imagination, invention, sensibility, ardour. 

As a speaker and as a writer he had the power to enlighten 
and persuade, to move, to please, to charm, to astonish. He 
united those decorations that belong to fine talents to that pen- 
etration and judgment that designate an acute and solid mind. 
Many of his opinions have the authority of predictions fulfilled 
and fulfilling. He hud the ability of investigation, and, where 
it was necessary, did investigate with patient attention, going 
through a series of observation and deduction, and tracing the 
links which connect one truth with another. When the result 
of his researches was exhibited in discourse, the steps of a 
logical process were in some measure concealed by the colour- 
ing of rhetorick. Minute calculations and dry details were 
employments, however, the least adapted to his peculiar con- 
struction of mind. It was easy and delightful for him to illus- 
trate by a picture, but painful and laborious to prove by a dia- 
gram. It was the prerogative of his mind to discern by a glance, 
so rapid as to seem intuition, those truths which common ca- 
pacities struggle hard to apprehend ; and it was the part of his 
eloquence to display, expand, and enforce them. 

His imagination was a distinguishing feature of his mind. 
Prolific, grand, sportive, original, it gave him the command 
of nature and art, and enabled him to vary the disposition and 
the dress of his ideas without end. Now it assembled most 
pleasing images, adorned with all that is soft and beautiful ; and 
now rose in the storm, wielding the elements and flashing with 
the most awful splendours. 

Very few men have produced more original combinations. 
He presented resemblances and contrasts which none saw 



LIFE OF FISHER AMES. xxi 

before, but all admitted to be just and striking. In delicate and 
powerful wit he was pre-eminent. 

The exercise of these talents and accomplishments was 
guided and exalted by a sublime morality and the spirit of ra- 
tional piety, was modelled by much good taste, and prompted 
by an ardent heart. 

Mr. Ames was more adapted to the senate than the bar. 
His speeches in congress, always respectable, Avere many of 
them excellent, abounding in argument and sentiment, hav- 
ing all the necessary information, embellished with rhetorical 
beauties and animated with patriotick fires. 

So much of the skill and address of the orator do they ex- 
hibit, that, though he had little regard to the rules of the art, 
they are perhaps fair examples of the leading precepts for the 
several parts of an oration. In debates on important questions 
he generally waited before he spoke, till the discussion had pro- 
ceeded at some length, when he was sure to notice every ar- 
gument that had been ofiered. He was sometimes in a mino- 
rity, when he well considered the temper of a majority in a 
republican assembly, impatient of contradiction, refutation, or 
detection, claiming to be allowed sincere m their convictions, 
and disinterested in their views. He was not vmsuccessful in 
uniting the prudence and conciliation necessary in parliamen- 
tary speaking, with lawful freedom of debate and an effectual 
use of those sharp and massy weapons which his talents 
supplied, and which his frankness and zeal prompted him to 
employ. 

He did not systematically study the exterior graces of speak- 
ing, but his attitude was erect and easy, his gestures manly 
and forcible, his intonations varied and expressive, his articu- 
lation distinct, and his whole manner animated and natural. His 
written compositions, it will be perceived, have that glow and 
vivacity which belonged to his speeches. 

All the other efforts of his mind, however, were probably 
exceeded by his powers in conversation. He appeared among 
his friends with an illuminated face, and with peculiar amenity 
suid captivating kindness displayed all the playful felicity of his 



xxii UPE OF FISHER AMES. 

wit, the force of his intellect, and the fertility of his imagina- 
tion. 

On the kind or degree of excellence which criticism may 
concede or deny to Mr. Ames's productions, we do not under- 
take with accurate discrimination to determine. He was un- 
doubtedly rather actuated by the genius of oratory, than disci- 
plined by the precepts of rhetorick ; was more intent on 
exciting attention and interest and producing effect, than 
securing the praise of skill in the artifice of composition. 
Hence criticks might be dissatisfied, yet hearers charmed. 
The abundance of materials, the energy and quickness of con- 
ception, the inexhaustible fertility of mind, which he possessed, 
as they did not require, so they forbade a rigid adherence to 
artificial guides in the dispjosition and employment of his in- 
tellectual stores. To a certain extent, such a speaker and 
writer may claim to be his own authority. 

Image crouded upon image in his mind, he is not charge- 
able with affectation in the use of figurative language ; his 
tropes are evidently prompted by imagination, and not forced 
into his service. Their novelty and variety create constant 
surprise and delight. But they are, perhaps, too lavishly em,- 
ployed. The fancy of his hearers is sometimes overplied with 
stimulus, and the importance of the thought liable to be con- 
cealed in the multitude and beauty of the metaphors. His 
condensation of expression may be thought to produce occa- 
sional abruptness. He aimed rather at the terseness, strength, 
and vivacity of the short sentence., than the dignity of the full 
and flowing period. His style is conspicuous for sententious 
brevity, for antithesis and point. Single ideas appear with 
so much lustre and prominence, that the connection of the 
several parts of his discourse is not always obvious to the com- 
mon mind, and the aggregate impression of the composition 
is not always completely obtained. In those respects where his 
peculiar excellencies came near to defects, he is rather to be 
admired than imitated. 

Mr. Ames, though trusting much to his native resources, 
did by no means neglect to apply the labours of others to his 



LIFE OF FISHER AMES. xxiii 

own use. His early love of books has been mentioned ; and 
he retained and cherished the same propensity through his 
whole life. He was particularly fond of ethical studies ; but he 
went more deeply into histor)^ than any other branch of learn- 
ing. Here he sought the principles of legislation, the science 
of politicks, the causes of the rise and decline of nations, and 
the character and passions of men acting in publick affairs. He 
read Herodotus, Thucydides, Livy, Tacitus, Plutax'ch, and the 
modern historians of Greece and Rome. The English history 
he studied with much care. Hence he possessed a great fund 
of historical knowledge always at command both for conversa- 
tion and writing. He contemplated the character of Cicero as 
an orator and statesman with fervent admiration. 

He never ceased to be a lover of the poets. Homer, in Pope, 
he often perused ; and read Virgil in the original within two 
years of his death with increased delight. His knowledge of 
the French enabled him to read their authors, though not to 
speak their language. He was accustomed to read the scrip- 
tures, not only as containing a systenn of truth and duty, but as 
displaying in their poetical paits, all that is sublime, animated, 
and affecting in composition. His learning seldom appeared 
as such, but was interwoven with his thoughts and became 
his own. 

In publick speaking he trusted much to excitement, and did 
little more in his closet than draw the outlines of his speech 
and reflect on it, till he had received deeply the impressions 
he intended to make ; depending for the turns and figures of 
language, illustrations and modes of appeal to the passions, on 
his imagination and feelings at the time. This excitement 
continued, when the cause had ceased to operate. After debate 
his mind was agitated, Uke the ocean after a storm, and his 
nerves Avere like the shrouds of a ship, torn by the tempest. 

He brought his mind much in contact with the minds of 
others, ever pleased to converse on siibjects of publick interest, 
and seizing every hint that might be useful to him in writing 
for the instruction of his fellow-citizens. He justly thought, 
that persons below him in capacity might have good ideas, 



xxlv LIFE OF FISHER AMES. 

which he might employ in the correction and improvement of 
his own. His attention was always awake to grasp the materials 
that came to him from every source. A constant labour was 
going on in his mind. 

He never sunk from an elevated tone of thought and action, 
nor suffered his faculties to slumber in indolence. The circum- 
stances of the times, in which he was called to act, contributed 
to elicit his powers, and supply fuel to his genius. The great- 
est interests were subjects of debate. When he was in the 
national legislature, the spirit of party did not tie the hands of 
the publick functionaries ; and questions, on which depended the 
peace or war, the safety or danger, the freedom or dishonour 
of the country, might be greatly influenced by the counsels and 
efforts of a single patriot. 

The political principles and opinions of Mr. Ames are not 
difficult to be understood, and should be attentively regarded 
by those who will estimate the merit of his labours. Mr. 
Ames was emphatically a republican. He saw, that many per- 
sons confounded a republick with a democracy. He con- 
sidered them as essentially distinct and really opposite. Accord- 
ing to his creed, a republick is that structure of an elective 
government, in which the administration necessarily prescribe 
to themselves the general good as the object of all their mea- 
sui'es ; a democracy is that, in which the present popular pas- 
sions, independent of the publick good, become a guide to 
the rulers. In the first, the reason and interests of the society 
govern ; in the second, their prejudices and passions. The 
frame of the American constitution supposes the dangers of 
democracy. The division of the legislature into two branches 
and their diverse origin, the long duration of office in one 
branch, the distinct power of the executive, the independence 
and permanency of the judiciary are designed to balance and 
check the democratick tendencies of our polity. They are 
contrivances and devices voluntarily adopted by the people to 
restrain themselves from obstructing, by their own mistakes or 
perversity, the attainment of the publick welfare. They are 
professed means of insuring to the nation rulers, who will pre- 



LIFE OF FISHER AMES. xxv 

fer the durable good of the whole' to the transient advantage 
of the whole or a part. When these provisions become inef- 
fectual, and the legislator, the executive magistrate, and the 
judge become the instruments of the passions of the people, or 
of the governing majority, the government, whatever may be 
its form, is a democracy, and the publick liberty is no longer 
safe. True republican rulers are bound to act, not simply as 
those who appoint them would^ but, as they ought ; democrat- 
ick leaders will act in subordination to those \evy passions 
which it is the object of government to control ; but as the'effcct 
of this subserviency is to procure them unlimited confidence 
and devotedness, the powers of society become concentrated in 
their hands. Then it is, that men, not laws, govern. Nothing 
can be more inconsistent with the real liberty of the people, 
than the power of the democracy thus brought into action. 
For in this case the government is a despotism beyond rule, 
not a republick confined to rule. It is strong, but its strength 
is of a terrible sort ; strong to oppress, not to protect ; not 
strong to maintain liberty, property, and right, it cannot secure 
justice nor make innocence safe. 

Mr. Ames apprehended, that our government had been 
sliding down from a true republick towards the abyss of demo- 
cracy ; and that the ambition of demagogues operating on 
personal, party, and local passions, was attaining its objects, 
" A quack doctor, a bankrupt attorney, and a renegado from 
England, by leading the mobs of three cities, become worth a 
national bribe ; and after receiving it, tliey are not the servants 
but the betrayers of the state." The only resource against this 
degeneracy of our affairs and their final catastrophe Mr. Ames 
considered to be " the correctness of the publick opinion, and 
the energy that is to maintain it." Hence his zeal to support 
the federal administration in the constitutional exercise of its 
powers, and his fervid appeals to enlighten, animate, and com- 
bine the friends of republican liberty. Hence the stress he 
laid on the principles, habits, and institutions that pertain to 
the New-England state of society. " Constitutions," said he, 
*' are but paper ; society is the substratum of government. 



sxvi LIFE OF FISHER AMES. 

The Ne'A'-England stale of society is tlie best security to us and, 
mediateiy, to the United States for a government favourable to 
liberty uid order. The chance of these is almost exclusively 
from their morals, knowledge, manners, and equal diffusion 
of property, added to town governments and clergy ; all cir- 
cunistLitJces inestimable." 

In conlorniicy to t!,esc principles, lie considered party as the 
necessary eiii^hie of good, as well as the instrument of evil in 
a repubiick. Party, meaning an association or political con- 
nection for the publick good, is a name of praise ; and a 
" party, united and actuated by a common impulse or interest 
adverse to the rights of the citizens and the permanent and 
aggregate interests of the community," even though it be a 
majority, is rf faction. Accident, as well as vice, would operate 
strongly on the formation of the one body, and in some small 
degree of the other ; but their prevailing character and views 
constitute theii* distinction, and determine them good or bad. 
Neutrality is not permitted to a good citizen. Indifference 
about political party is not moderation, but cither an insensi- 
bility to the publick welfare, or a selfish desire of getting 
favour with both sides at the expense of the honest. Modera- 
tion consists in maintaining the love of country superiour to 
party feeling, and in shewing respect to the rights of opponents, 
not in allowing their wishes, or fearing their enmity, or relax- 
ing in prudent exertions to baffle their designs. 

Mr. Ames's character as a patriot rests on the highest and 
firmest ground. He loved his country with equal purity and 
fervour. This affection was the spring of all his efforts to 
promote her welfare. The glory of being a benefactor to a 
great people he could not despise, but justly valued. He was 
covetous of the fame purchased by desert ; but he was above 
ambition ; and popularity, except as an instrument of publick 
service, weighed nothing in the balance by which he estimated 
good and evil. Had he sought power only, he would have de- 
voted himself to that party, in whose gift he foresaw that it 
would be placed. His first election, though highly flattering, 
was eqtially unsought and unexpected, and his acceptance of 



LIFE OF FISHER AIMES. •;;\vi'i 

it interrupted his chosen phm of life. It obliged him to \^. 
fice the advantages of a profession, which he needed, and pL<l 
in uncertainty his prospect qf realising the enjoyments of \^ 
mestick life, which he considered as the highest species 
Jiappiness. But he found himself at the disposal of others, and\ 
did not so nuich choose, as aciiuiesce in his destination to the 
national legislature. The virulent pen of party ventured upon 
the surmise, that his pecuniary sacrifices were compensated 
by his interest in the publick credit, which his vote and in- 
fluence helped to establish. From his knowledge of affairs, 
and his confidential standing with those who were principals in 
effecting that measure, he might have made himself a gainer 
along with the publick by the funding system. But he con- 
sulted his lively sense of reputation by a scrupulous abstinence 
from participating in this advantage. He observed upon this 
calumny, which was uttered, not because it was deserved, but 
because it might be believed : " I have too good proofs of the 
Avant of property for surmise to the contrary to have weight ; 
I have much more occasion to justify myself to my family 
for being poor, than to repel the charge of being rich." His 
delicate mind and amiable temper made the contests of his pub- 
lick station often irksome. Though he did not allow himself to 
complain, yet he sometimes felt these irritations with much 
sensibility. " The value of fiiends," he observes, " is the most 
apparent and highest rated to those who mingle in the conflicts 
of political life. The sharp contests for little points wound 
the mind, and the ceaseless jargon of hypocrisy overpowers 
the faculties. I turn from scenes which provoke and disgust 
me to the contemplation of the interest I have in private life, 
and to the pleasures of society with those friends whom I have 
so much reason to esteem." 

He did not, however, turn his eyes from the favourable side 
of his situation. '^ There is a vexation in publick cares, but 
these cares awaken curiosity ; an active interest in the event 
of measures, which gradually becomes the habit of a politi- 
dan's soul. Besides, the society of worthy and distinguished 



x^y LIFE OF FISHER AMES. 

^,11, Avhose virtues and characters are opened and coloured 

f the sympathy of united efforts, is no mean compensation." 

^-iis health and perhaps his life were the costly oblations which 

^i\e laid on the altar of patriotism. The fine machinery of his 

system could ill withstand the excitement produced by publick 

speaking and his keen interest in publick affairs. 

It is happy for mankind, ^vhen those who engage admira- 
tion deserve esteem ; for vice and folly derive a pernicious in- 
fluence from an alliance with qualities that naturally command 
applause. In the character of Mr. Ames the circle of the 
virtues seemed to be complete, and each virtue in its proper 
place. 

The objects of religion presented themselves with a sti'ong 
interest to his mind. The relation of the world to its author, 
and of this life to a retributory scene in another, could not be 
contemplated by him without the greatest solemnity. The 
religious sense Avas, in his view, essential in the constitution of 
man. He placed a full reliance on the divine origin of Chris- 
tianity. If there was ever a time in his life, when the light of 
revelation shone dimly upon his understanding, he did not 
rashly close his mind against clearer vision, for he was more 
fearful of mistakes to the disadvantage of a system, which he 
saw to be excellent and benign, than of prepossessions in its 
favour. He felt it his duty and interest to inquire, and discov- 
ered on the side of faith a fulness of evidence little short of de- 
monstration. At about thirty five he made a publick profession of 
his belief in the christian religion, and was a regular attendant ou 
its services. In regard to articles of belief, his conviction was 
confined to those leading principles, about which christians 
have little diversity of opinion. Subtle questions of theology, 
from various causes often agitated, but never determined, he 
neither pretended nor desired to investigate, satisfied that they 
related to points uncertain or unimportant. He loved to view 
religion on the practical side, as designed to operate by a few 
simple and grand truths on the affections, actions, aiid habits 
of men. He cherished the sentiment and experience of i-eli- 
gion, careful to ascertain the genuineness and ralue of impres- 



LIFE OF FISHER AMES. xxix 

sions and feelings by their moral tendency. He insisted 
much on the distinction between the real and lively, but gen- 
tle and unaffected emotions of a pious mind, naturally passing 
into the life, and that " morbid fanaticism," which consists in 
inexplicable sensations, internal acts, and artificial raptures, 
that have no good aspect upon religious obedience. In esti- 
mating a sect he regarded more its temper than its tenets ; he 
treated the conscientious opinions and phraseology of others 
on sacred subjects with tenderness, and approached all ques- 
tions concerning divine revelation with modesty and awe. His 
prudence and moderation in these particulars may, possibly, 
have been misconstrued into an assent to propositions, which 
he meant merely not to deny, or an adoption of opinions or 
language, which he chose merely not to condemn. He of all 
men was the last to countenance exclusive claims to purity of 
faith, founded on a zeal for peculiar dogmas, which multitudes 
of good men, approved friends of truth, utterly reject. He was 
no enemy to improvement, to fair inquiry, and christian free- 
dom ; but innovations in the modes of worship and instruc- 
tion, without palpable necessity or advantage, he discouraged, as 
tending to break the salutary associations of the pious mind. 
His conversation and behaviour evinced the sincerity of his 
religious impressions. No levity upon these subjects ever 
escaped his lips ; but his manner of recurring to them in con- 
versation indicated reverence and feeling. The sublime, the 
affecting character of Christ he never mentioned without 
emotion. 

Mr. Ames was married July 15th, 1792, to Frances, third 
daughter of John Worthington, Esq. of Springfield. He left 
seven children, six of whom are sons ; the eldest fifteen years 
old. He was gratefully sensible of the peculiar felicity of his 
domestick life. In his beloved home his sickness found all 
the alleviation, that a judicious and unwearied tenderness could 
minister ; and his intervals of health a succession of every 
pleasing engagement and heartfelt satisfaction. The com- 
placency of his looks, the sweetness of his tones, his mild and 
often playful manner of imparting instruction, evinced his ex- 



XXX LIFE OP FISHER AMES. 

treme delight in the society of his family, who felt that they 
derived from him their chief happiness, and found in his con- 
versation and example a constant excitement to noble and vir- 
tuous conduct. As a husband and father, he was all that is 
provident, kind, and exemplary. He was riveted in the re- 
gards of those who were in his service. He felt all the ties 
of kindred. The delicacy, the ardour, and constancy, with 
which he cherished his friends, his readiness to the offices of 
good neighbourhood, and his propensity to contrive and exe- 
cute plans of publick improvement, formed traits in his char- 
acter, each of remarkable strength. He cultivated friend- 
ship by an active and pvmctual correspondence, which iT>ade 
the number of his letters very great, and which are not less ex- 
cellent than numerous. 

When he emerged from comparative obscuritv to fill a large 
space in the eyes of the publick, he lost none of the simplicity of 
cliaracter and modesty of deportment which he had before dis- 
played, and neglected none of the friends of his youth. He never 
yielded to that aversion to the necessary cares of life, which 
men, accustomed to high concerns, or fond of letters, some- 
times improvidently indulge. Without any particle of avarice, 
he was strictly economical. 

He had no euAy, for he felt no personal rivalry. His ambi- 
tion was of that purified sort, which is rather the desire of 
excellence than the reputation of it : he aimed more at desert, 
than at superiority. He loved to bestow praise on those who 
were competitors for the same kind of publick considera- 
tion as himself, not fearing that he should sink by their eleva- 
tion. 

He was tenacious of his rights, but scrupulous in his re- 
spect to the rights of others. The obloquy of political oppo- 
nents, was sometimes the price he paid for not deserving it. 
But it could hardly give him pain, for he had no vulnerable 
points in his character. He had a perfect command of his 
temper ; his anger never proceeded to passion, nor his sense 
of injury to revenge. If there was occasional asperity in his 
language, it was easy to see there was no malignity in his dis- 



LIFE OF FISHER AMES. xxxi 

position. He tasted the good of his existence with cheerful 
gratitude ; how he received its evil has been already intimated. 

His fears concerning publick affairs did not so much depress 
his spirits, as awaken his activity to prevent or mitigate, by his 
warnings and counsels, the disorder of the state. He was 
deeply anxious for the fortunes of his country, but more intent 
on rendering it all the service in his power ; convinced that, 
however uncertain may be the events of the future, the present 
duty is never performed in vain. 

Mr. Ames in person a little exceeded the middle height, 
was well proportioned, and remarkably erect. His features 
were regular, his aspect respectable and pleasing, his eye ex- 
pressive of benignity and intelligence. His head and face are 
shown with great perfection in the engraving prefixed to his 
works. In his manners he was easy, affable, cordial, inviting 
confidence, yet inspiring respect. He had that refined spii^it 
of society, which observes the forms of a real, but not studied 
politeness, and paid a most delicate regard to the propriety of 
conversation and behaviour. 

In ftiint lines we have sketched the character of this man of 
worth. If the reader ask, why he is represented without ble- 
mishes, the answer is, that, though as a man he undoubtedly 
had faults, yet they were so few, so trivial, or so lost among his 
virtues, as not to be observed, or not to be remembered. 



■If 



WORKS 



FISHER AMES. 



PREFACE. 



OOME apology might be necessary for a portion of 
the following work, if the numerous friends and admirers of 
its author had not demanded its publication. They had long 
desired to possess, in a decent and durable form, some of 
those brilliant and profound thoughts with which they had 
often been delighted and instructed. A republication of news- 
paper essays is not generally entitled to extensive publick 
patronage, but the writings of Mr. Ames are believed to be 
among the exceptions to this remark. His ardent and unre- 
mitted zeal for the welfare of his countiy induced him at all 
times to prefer the interest of that country to his own fame ; 
and that genius, which might have immortalized his name 
by another direction of its poAvers, was confined to the humble 
but, perhaps, more useful office of teaching his fellow citi- 
zens, in the perishable journals of the day, the nature of 
liberty and the danger of its loss. Some of those who had 
been charmed with his eloquence proposed, in his lifetime, 
to sepai-ate the productions of his pen from the less interesting 
matter with which they were connected ; his delicacy forbade 
them to proceed ; but the deep and spontaneous expression 
of the publick grief at his death gave new life to the propo- 
sal which is now carried into effect. 



PREFACE. 

In making a selection from the great mass of his works, 
the aim has been to furnish a fdr specimen of the talents and 
sentiments of the author, to prefer such pieces as are of the 
most general nature, to exclude offensive personal allusions, 
except when the names of persons seem to be inseparable from 
the subject, and to avoid repetitions. It will be perceived, that 
the essays and speeches to the 378th page, inclusively, 'are a 
republication from newspapers and pamphlets, and that the 
writings from thence to the end of the volume, are now for 
the first time published. 



CONTENTS. 



Lucius Junius Brutus . >. ¥age 1 

Camiilus. No. 1 8 

Camillas. No. II 12 

Camiilus. No. Ill 16 

Speech in the Convention of Massachusetts on Biennial Elections 20 

Speech on Mr. Madison's Resolutions 26 

Speech on the British Treaty •SS 

Laocoon. No. 1 94 

Laocoon. No. II 103 

Eulogy on Washington 115 

School Books 134 

Falkland. No. 1 136 

Falkland. No. II 139 

Falkland. No. Ill 144 

Falkland. No. IV 150 

The Observer 154 

Sketches of the State of Europe. No. 1 156 

Sketches of the State of Europe. No. II 159 

Phocion. No. I. On British Influence 166 

Phocion. No. II. On British Influence 170 

Phocion. No. III. On British Influence 173 

Phocion. No. IV. On British Influence 176 

Phocion. No. V. On British Influence 180 

Phocion. No. VI. On French Influence 184 

The new Romans. No. 1 188 

The new Romans. No. II 191 

The new Romans. No. Ill 195 

The new Romans. No. IV 198 

The new Romans. No. V 203 

Russia 208 

Foreign Politicks. No. 1 209 

Foreign Politicks. No. II 212 

Poreign Politicks. No. Ill 216 

Hercules 222 

No Revolutionist 22S 



CONTENTS. 

Equality. No. 1 230 

Equality. No. II 232 

Equality. No. Ill 235 

Equality. No. IV 239 

Equality. No. V 243 

Equality. No. VI 246 

" History is Philosophy teaching^ by Example" 252 

Balance of Europe 255 

Political Review. No. 1 262 

Political Review. No. II. - 265 

Political Review. No. Ill 268 

Monitor 272 

Republican. No. 1 276 

Republican. No. II 278 

Sketch of the Character of Alexander Hamilton 282 

Reflections on the War in Europe 291 

Character of Brutus 298 

On the Prospect of a New Coalition against France 302 

The Combined Powers and France 307 

The Successes of Buonaparte 314 

Dangerous Power of France. No. 1 317 

Dangerous Power of France. No. II 323 

Dangerous Power of Franct. No. Ill 335 

Non-Intei"course Act 344 

/ Lessons from Histoiy. No. 1 347 

Lessons from History. No. II ^49 

Lessons from History. No. Ill -^5- 

Lessons from History. No. IV o54 

Lessons from History. No. V -^^^ 

British AUiance 357 

Duration of French Despotism ''"^ 

Dangerous Power of France. No. IV ^"° 

Dangers of American Liberty "^'^ 

Hints and Conjectures concerning the Institutions of Lycurgus 438 

American Literature ^''° 

Review of a Pamphlet, entitled, Present State of the British 

Constitution historically illustrated 47S 

Letters 477 



WORKS 



FISHER AMES. 



LUCIUS JUNIUS BRUTUS. 

First published in the Independent Chronicle, at Boston, October 12, 1786. 

This political speculation was written after several of the courts of justice had been stopped 
1^ the insui-gents, and before the marching of the army commanded by general Lincoln, 
which happily suppressed that rebellion. The writer was then young, and had taken no 
share in publick affairs. A perusal of the publick Journals and newspapers of that period 
will prove, that no other man had then the boldness to express, and it is believed, that few had 
the discernment to entertain, so many correct ideas upon the critical state of our country'. 
It is well also to remark, that the principles and opinions of the writer were precisely the 
same with those, which he so eloquently maint.iined throughout his whole life. In a man, 
endowed with a mind so luminous, and of a heart so pure, this uniform adherence to the 
same opinions will afford no small weight of evidence in favour of their coiTectness. This 
piece, wTitten when it was wholly uncertain, whether the republick or its foes would be 
victorious, is an ample proof of the fortitude, the patriotism, and the ai*dent zeal of the 
writer. It evinces, that he was the declared foe of faction and rebellion, and tlie staunch 
friend of a firm republican govenunent. 

JTeu, niiseri cives 
JVon hostes, hiimicaque castra, 
Vestras spes uritis. 



M 



.ANY friends of the government seem to think it a duty 
to practise a little well intended hypocrisy, when conversing 
on the subject of the late commotions in the commonwealth. 
They seem to think it prudent and necessary to conceal from 
the people, and even from themselves, the magnitude of the 
present danger. They affect to hope, that there is not any real 
disaffection to government among the rioters, and that reason 
will soon dispel the delusion which has excited them to arms. 
1 



2 LUCIUS JUNIUS BRUTUS. 

But the present crisis is too important, and appearances too 
menacing, to admit of pusillanimous councils, and half-way 
measures. Eveiy citizen has aright to know the truth. It is 
time to speak out, and to rouse the torpid patriotism of men, 
who have every thing to lose by the subversion of an excellent 
constitution. 

The members of the general court acquired the esteem 
of the rpost respectable part of the community, by their wise 
and manly conduct during the last session: the task before 
them is iiow become arduous indeed ; the eyes of their country, 
and of the world, are upon them, while they resolve, either to 
surrender the constitution of their country, without an effort, 
or, by exerting the v/hole force of the state in its defence, to 
satisfy their constituents, that its fall (if it, must fall) was ef- 
fected by a force, against which all the resources of prudence 
and patriotism had been called forth in vain. 

It will be necessary to consider the nature and probable con- 
sequences of the late riots, in order to determine, whether this 
alternative, to surrender or to defend the constitution, is now 
the question before the general court. 

The crime of high treason has not been always supposed to 
imply the greatest moral turpitude and corruption of mind ; 
but it has ever stood first on the list of civil crimes. In 
European states, the rebellion of a small number of persons 
can excite bvit little apprehension, and no danger ; an armed 
force is there kept up, which can crush tumults almost as soon 
as they break out ; or if a rebellion prevails, the conqueror suc- 
ceeds to the power and titles of his vanquished competitor. 
The head of the government is changed ; but the government 
remains. 

The crime of levying war against the state is attended with 
particular aggravations and dangers in this country. Our go- 
vernment has no armed force ; it subsists by the supposed 
approbation of the majority : the first murmurs of sedition 
excite doubts of that approbation ; timid, credulous, and ambi- 
tious men concur to magnify the dangex*. In such a govern- 
ment, the danger is real, as soon as it is dreaded. No sooner 



LUCIUS JUNIUS imUTUS. 3 

is the standard of rebellion displayed, than men of desperate 
principles and fortunes resort to it ; the pillars of government 
are shaken ; the edifice totters from its centre ; the foot of a 
child may overthrow it ; the hands of giants cannot rebuild* it. 
For if our government should be desti'oyed, what but the total 
destruction of civil society iBust ensue ? A more popular form 
could not be contrived, nor could it stand : one less popular 
would not be adopted. The people, then, wearied by anarchy, 
and wasted by intestine war, must fall an easy prey to foreign or 
<lomestick tyranny. Besides, our .constitution is the free act of 
the people ; they stand solemnly pledged for its defence, and 
treason against such a constitution implies a high degree of 
moral depi^avity. 

Sue a are the aggravations of the crime of high treason 
against the commonwealth of Massachusetts, 

Is it safe, by our timidity, and affected moderation, to afford 
the principal perpetrators of this atrocious crimic the prospect 
of impunity? There are offences, which wise nations have 
supposed it unsafe to pardon. For their forgeries, the bene- 
volent Dodd, and the ingenious Ryland, suffered death : the 
pardon of the one was refused to the tears of a suppliant nation ; 
nor could a monarch's favour save the other from his punish- 
ment. This crime against a free commonwealth, vv'hich has 
no standing military force, will be repeated, if it is not punished : 
witness the increase of insolence and n-umbcrs, with which the 
late riots have succeeded each other. The certainty of punish- 
ment is the truest security against crimes : but if a number of 
individuals are allowed with impunity to support, by arms, 
their disapprobation of public measures, though the constitu- 
tion should remain, yet we shall be cursed with a government 
by men, and not by laws. The plans of an enlightened and per- 
manent national policy may be defeated by, and, in fact, must 
depend upon the desperate ambition of the worst men in the 
commonwealth ; upon the convenience of bankrupts and sots, 
who have gambled or slept away their estates ; upon th& 
sophisms of wrong headed men of some undei'standing; and 
upon the prejudices, capi-ice, and ignorant enthusiasm of a 



4 LUCIUS JUNIUS BRUTUS. 

multitude of tavern-haunting politicians, who have none at all. 
The supreme power of the state will be found to reside with 
such men ; and in making laws, the object will not be the 
general good, but the will and interest of the vile legislators. 
This will be a government by men, and the worst of men ; 
and such men, actuated by the strongest passions of the heart, 
having nothing to lose, and hoping, from the general confusion, 
to reap a copious harvest, will acquire, in every society, a larger 
shai'e of influence than equal property and abilities will give 
to better citizens. The motives to refuse obedience to gov- 
ernment are many and strong ; impunity will multiply and 
enforce them. Many men would rebel, rather than be ruined; 
but they would rather not rebel, than be hanged. The English 
government may sometimes treat insurrections with lenity, for 
they dare to punish. But who will impute our forbearance 
either to prudence or magnanimity. 

It need not be observed, that it is rebellion to oppose any of 
the courts of justice ; but opposing the supreme couit, whose 
justices are so revered for their great learning and integrity, is 
known to be high treason by every individual who has mingled 
with the mob. Many of them have been deluded with the 
pretence of grievances ; but they well know, that the method of 
redress, which they have sought, is treasonable ; they dare to 
commit the offence, because they believe that government have 
not the power and spirit to punish them. 

This seems, therefore, to be the time, and perhaps the only 
lime, to revive just ideas of the criminality and danger of trea- 
son ; for our government to govern ; for our rulers to vindicate 
the violated majesty of a free coinmonnvealth ; to convince the 
advocates of democracy.) that the constitution may yet be defended^ 
and that it is worth defending ; that the su/ire?ne potver is really 
held by the legal representatives of the people ; that the county 
conventio7is and riotous assemblies of armed men shall no longer 
be allowed to legislate^ and to form an imperium in imperio ; 
and that the protection of government shall yet be effectually 
extended to every citizen of the commonwealth. 



LUCIUS JUNIUS BRUTUS. A 

In a free government, the reality of grievances is no kind 
of justification of rebellion. It is hoped that our rulers will 
act with dignity and wisdom ; that they will yield eveiy thing 
to I'eason, and refuse eveiy thing to force ; that they will not 
consider any burdens as a grievance, which it is the duty of 
the people to bear ; but if the burden is too weighty for them 
to endure, that they will lighten it ; and that they will not de- 
scend to the injustice and meanness of imrcliasing leave to hold 
their authority., by sacrijicing- a part of the co7n?mmity to the 
villany and ignorance of the disaffected. 

It may be veiy proper to use arguments, to publish ad- 
dresses, and fulminate proclamations, against high treason: 
but the man who expects to disperse a mob of a thousand men, 
by ten thousand arguments, has certainly never been in one. 
I have heard it remarked, that men are not to be reasoned out 
of an opinion that they have not reasoned themselves into. 
The case, though important, is simple. Government does not 
subsist by making proselytes to sound reason, or by compro- 
mise and arbitration with its members ; but by the power of 
the community compelling the obedience of individuals. If 
that is not done, who will seek its protection, or fear its ven- 
geance. Government may prevail in the argument, and yet we 
may lose the constitution. 

We have been told, that the hatchet of rebellion would be 
buried, at least till another occasion shall call it forth, provided 
all publick and private debts be abolished, or, in lieu of such 
abolition, that a tender act be passed ; or an emission of paper 
money, as a tender for all debts, should be made ; or that the 
courts of justice should be shut, until all grievances are re- 
dressed. 

Here naturally arise two questions. In strict justice, ought 
our rulers to adopt either of these measures? And should they 
adopt either, or all of them, will the energy of government be 
restored, and the constitution be preserved ? 

As to the first question, who is there that keeps company 
with honest men, that will not give scope to the vehement 
detestation that he bears the idea? Is there a rogue in the 



6 LUCIUS JUNIUS BRUTUS. 

state so hardened against shame and conscience, that he would 
consent to be, alone, the author of either of those measures ? 
It is to be hoped that the time is not yet anived, when the 
government of a free., new people is worse than the worst 
man in it. 

But should government resolve, that a measure which is 
morally wrong, is politically right ; that it is necessary to 
sacrifice its friends and advocates to buy a truce from its foes ; 
will those foes, having tasted the sweets of ruling, intermit 
their enterprises, while there is a remnant of authority left in 
the state to inflict punishments and to impose taxes, and that 
authority is no longer formidable by the support of those men, 
whose rights have been already surrendered ? Did cowardice, 
did injustice, ever save a sinking state ? Did any man, by giv- 
ing up a portion of his just right, because he had not courage 
to maintain it, ever save the residue ? The insolence of the 
aggressor is usually proportioned to the tameness of the suf- 
ferer. Every individual has a right to tell his rulers, / a?« 07ie 
of the parties to (he constitutional contract. I promised alle- 
giance., and I require protection for my life and property. I am 
ready to risk both in your defence. I am competent to make my 
mvn contracts ; and when they are violated^ to seek their inter- 
pretation and redress in the judicial courts. I never gave you a 
right to interpose in them. Without my consent, or a crime 
com?}iitted, neither you., nor any individual, have a right to my 
property. I refuse my consent ; I am innocent of any crime. I 
solemnly protest against the transfer of my property to my debtor. 
An act making paper, or sivine, a tender, is a corfiscation of my 
estate, and a breach of that compact, under ivhich I thought I 
had secured protection. If ye say that the people are distressed, 
I ask, is the proposed relief less destressing ? Relieve distress 
from your own funds ; exercise the virtues of charity and com- 
passion at your own charge, as J do. Ain I to lose my property, 
and to be involved in distress, to relieve fiersons whom I never 
saw, and who are unworthy of compassion, if they accept the 
dishonest relief If your virtues lead you to oppress me, what 
am I to expect from your vices? But if ye will suffer my life to 



LUCIUS JUNIUS BRUTUS'. 7 

depend ufion the mercy of the mob, and mij property upon their 
opinion of the expediency of my keeping it, at least restore me 
the right, nvhich I renounced when I became a citizen, of vindicat- 
ing my own rights, and avenging iny own injuries. 

In fine, the publick will be convinced, that the designs of 
the rioters are subversive of government ; that they have know- 
ingly incurred the penalties of high treason ; that arguments 
will not reach them ; will not be understood ; if understood, 
Avill not convince them ; and after having gone such lengths, 
conviction will not disarm them ; that, if government should 
reason and deliberate, when they ought to act; should choose 
committees, publish addresses, and do nothing ; we shall see 
our free constitution expire, the state of nature restored, and 
ovu" rank among savages taken somewhere below the Oneida 
Indians. If government should do worse than nothing, should 
make paper money or a tender act, all hopes of seeing the 
people quiet, and property safe, are at an end. Such an act 
would be the legal triumph of treason. 

But before we make such a sacrifice, let us consider our 
force to defend the state. And to direct that force, at the 
head of the government is a magistrate, whose firmness, in- 
tegrity, and ability, are well known. The senate and house 
have hitherto deserved tlie public confidence. Every man of 
principle and property will give them his most zealous aid. 
A select corps of militia may easily be formed, of such mtn 
as may be trusted; the force of the United States may be 
relied upon, if needed. The insurgents, without leaders, and 
without resources, will claim the mercy of the government, as 
soon as vigorous counsels are adopted. 

Buf if the constitution must fall, let us discharge our duty, 
and attempt its defence. Let us not furnish our enemies with a 
triumph, nor the dishonoured page of JUstory with evidence, that 

IT WAS FORMED WITH TOO MUCH WISDOM TO BE VALUED, 
AND REqUIRED TOO MUCH VIRTUE TO BE MAINTAINED BY 
IT5 MEMBERS. 



[ 8 ] 



CAMILLUS. NO. I. 

First puhlished'in tfie Independent Chronicle, March 1, 1787. 

This, and the two following pieces, were written immediately after the suppression of Shays's 
insurrection, and before any measui-es had been taken either to guai-d against a repetition of 
similar disordei-s in our own state, or to strengthen the federal government. Two reflec- 
tions naturally arise in perusing these early productions of Mr. Ames's pen: that he was 
one of the very first to discern the impoi-tance, and to urge the necessity' of amending the 
federal compact. He early saw the evils of the old confederation, and suggested in these 
essays, before the calling of any convention, the basis of a federal system, in a remarkable 
degree corresponding with the one which was afterwaixls adopted. It is also to Ije observed, 
that he at this period foresaw the dangers, to which our liberty would be exposed; that he 
apprehended, (and well he might, from the events of that day) that those hazai-ds wers 
chiefly on the popular side, and that despotism would be much more likely to be introduced 
by factious leaders, under the garb of patriotism, than by open, direct attacks. He manifesti 
his aixlent zeal and anxiety for a republican fonn of government, and ridicules the idea of 
the possibility of introducing a monarchy (except an absolute one) in our countrj'. The 
reader will notice the wonderful coincidence of this part of these early essays with a post- 
humous piece, now for the first time published, entitled, " The Dangers of American 
Liberty." These early essays render any explanation of the latter piece unnecessary, as 
they obviously display the motives of the writer in thus enlarging upon, and depicturing 
in gloomj' colours, the dangers to which a popular government is liable. It was because 
he loved the republick, and cherished it with unusual warmth and aflTection, that he was 
perpetually pointing out its hazards. It was the timely admonition of a fond father to 
secure the future happiness of a beloved child. 

X HE late events have been so interesting and so rapid, that 
the publick mind has been confounded by the magnitude, and 
oppressed with the variety of the reflections which resuh from 
them. The season of the most useful observation for states- 
men and philosophers is not yet arrived. Their decisions are 
made upon facts, as they appear in their simplicity, after 
faction has ceased to distort, and enthusiasm to adorn them. 
It is otherwise with the publick. Their judgment is formed 
while the transactions are recent, while the rage of party gives 
an acumen to their penetration, and an importance to their 
discoveries, which, howevTSr, are soon cheerfully consigned to 
oblivion. This seems, therefore, to be the time to reconsider 
the state of paities, and to examine the opinions, which have 
lately prevailed. Perhaps some fruit may be gathered from 
our dear experience ; and wc may, in some measure, succeed 
in eradicating the destructive notions which the seditious have 
infused into the people. 



CAMILLUS. 9 

But experience, which makes individuals wise, sometimes 
makes a publick mad : judging only by their feelings, disastrous 
events are usually charged to the agency of bad men ; and in 
the bustle, excited by their vindictive zeal, the precious lessons 
of adversity ai^e lost. It belongs to the sage politician to draw 
from such events just maxims of policy, for the future benefit 
of mar^kind ; and it belongs to mankind to keep these maxims 
accumulating, by repeating the same blunders, and pursuing 
the same phantoms, witli equal ignorance, and equal ardour, to 
the end of the world. This disposition is so obvious, that proof 
cannot be needed. But if it be desired, it is furnished so 
abundantly by the history of every nation, that it requires some 
taste to select judiciously the most pertinent evidence. It is 
most useful to advert to our own times. 

In spite of national beggary, paper money has still its advo- 
cates, and probably, of late, its martyrs. In spite of national 
dishonour, the continental impost is still opposed with success. 
Never did experience more completely demonstrate the ini- 
quity of the one, and the necessity of the other. But, in 
defiance of demonstration, knaves will continue to proselyte 
fools, and to keep a paper money faction alive. The fear of 
their success has annihilated credit, as their actual success 
would annihilate property. For many years we may expect, 
that our federal government will be permitted to languish, 
without the powers to extort commercial treaties from rival 
states, or to establish a national revenue. All this is notorious. 
It is the common language of the people, not excepting the 
least informed. But it is vain to expect, that schemes plainly 
unjust and absurd will, therefore, want advocates. Our late 
experience forbids this confidence. Hitherto invention has not 
equalled credulity ; and the next pretence for rebellion will 
more probably fail of rousing the disaffected to arms, because 
it is not monstrous and absurd enough, than because its repug- 
nance to reason and common justice are palpable. The love 
of novelty and the passion for the marvellous have ever made 
the multitude more than passive ; they have invited imposture, 
and drunk down deception like water. They will remain as 



10 CAM ILL us 

blind, as creduloais, as irritable as ever : ambitious men, and 
those whose characters and fortunes are blasted, will not be 
wanting to deceive and inflame them, openly, or by intrigue. 
The opposition to federal measures, and the schemes of an 
abolition of debts and an equal distribution of property, with 
their subdivisions and branches, will be pursued with unremit- 
ting industry, till they involve us again in general confusion, 
imless government, by system, energy, and honesty shall render 
the laws from this period irresistibly supreme. 

But success never fails to produce good humour, and to 
procure for government a season of popularity. The publick 
attention is now awake, and this is the favourable moment to 
induce the people, by a retrospect of their errours, to renounce 
them, to place confidence in their rulers, and in the permanency 
and energy of our republick, and to unite in the patriotick 
sentiment, that it is indispensably necessary to the general 
prosperity, and to the very existence of government, that the 
reins should be resumed and held with a firmer hand ; and tliat 
palliatives and half expedients, and the projects of factious 
ignorance, will not avail. 

To a philosophick observer, indeed, the present confusion 
will afford an inexhaustible fund of astonishment and concern. 

He will behold men, who have been civilized, returning to 
barbarism, and threatening to become fiercer than the savage 
children of nature, hi proportion to the multitude of their 
wants, and the cultivated violence of their passions. He will 
see them weary of liberty, and unworthy of it ; arming their 
sacrilegious hands against it, though it was bought with their 
blood, and was once the darling pride of their hearts ; com- 
plaining of oppression, because the law, which has not forbidden, 
has not also enforced cheating ; endeavouring to oppose society 
against morality, and to associate freemen against freedom. 
He will call this a chaos of morals and politicks, in which are 
floating and conflicting, not the first principles and simple 
elements, out of which systems may be formed, but the 
fragments which have escaped the wreck of institutions and 
opinions ; not the embryo, but the ruins of a world. When he 



CAMILLUS. 11 

turns his eye from this landscape of barrenness and horrour, 
so painful to the senses and the imagination, he will be led to 
contemplate the rigorous wisdom of Providence, which has so 
palpably ordained, that the guilt of this rebellion shall be 
punished by its folly. 

It is no less true than singular, that our government is not 
supported by national prejudice. The people of every country, 
but our own, though poor and oppressed, bear a patriotick 
preference to their own laws and national character. They 
will not suffer any one to revile them. The Briton, who sells 
his vote, and is sold by his representative, glories in that 
freedom, which is his birthright : without the smallest know- 
ledge of the principles and institutions, by which that freedom 
is secured, he I'elies upon the fact, and takes rank of a French- 
man, whom he stigmatizes as a slave. To defend that rank, 
his ardent valour is always devoted to his country. Every 
Frenchman is equally prompt to maintain the glory of his 
king. This prejudice is useful, and bears to just political 
knowledge the relation of instinct to reason: its decisions are 
quick ; its influence uniform and certain. It is the cement 
of political union. The government of Turkey is doubtless 
applauded at Constantinople. Tyranny receives the homage 
of its dupes and its victims ; but liberty among us cannot 
preserve the reverence of her sons. We have no national 
character, no just pride in the glorious distinction of freemen, 
which elevates a Massachusetts beggar above the despots of 
Asia. We have, it is true, our portion of common follies; 
and we are not exceeded by any people in the zeal to maintain 
them : but unfortunately they tend to vilify and to destroy the 
publick liberty. The people have turned against their teachers 
the doctrines, which were inculcated in order to effect the late 
revolution. With more privileges and more information than 
are possessed by the inhabitants of any other country, our 
citizens, either because they have not learned the value of 
those privileges by the loss of them, or by a comparison with 
the nations subject to despotism, or because they have not been 
accustomed to think that any change Avill be unfavourable to 



12 CAMILLUS. 

them, appear to have no more attachment to the constitution 
than to the rules of the Robinhood society. The admirers of 
our government are beyond the Atluntick. It is extolled by 
the sages of Europe, as giving the sanction of law to the 
precepts of wisdom, and investing philanthropy with the power 
to legislate for mankind. But far from contemplating its ex- 
cellence with partial fondness and implicit reverence, the 
people arraign the institution of the senate, the exactness and 
multiplicity of the laws, and the constitution itself Devoted 
folly ! Will they continue to destroy the pillars of their Security 
till they are buried in the ruins ! 



CAMILLUS. N°. II. 

IN our last speculation we expressed our surprise, that a 
government, which is free almost to excess, should want the 
love and veneration of that class of the people, whose rights 
and privileges are so peculiarly connected with its preservation. 
But it is to be considered, that they have once subverted and 
again formed a constitution. Their complete success in both 
attempts has extinguished all their ideas of the difficulty and 
hazard of this operation ; and, accordingly, they seem to think 
it as easy and safe to change the government as the repre- 
sentatives. We have already considered some of the causes, 
which have produced this perversion of opinions. It is not 
strange, that people with little information or leisure, with 
violent prejudices and infinite credulity, should make indif- 
ferent politicians. But it remains a subject of amazement, 
that the men of speculation and refinement have wandered still 
more widely from the path of duty and good sense. It will 
be amusing to review the extravagances of these framers of 
hypotheses. They considered the contest with Britain, as 
involving the fate of liberty and science. To animate and 
recompense their sufferings and toils during the conflict, their 
ardent enthusiasm had anticipated a system of government too 



CAMILLUS. 13 

pure for a state of imperfection. When they found, that, for 
the first time in the history of man, a nation was allowed by 
Providence to reduce to practice the schemes, which Plato and 
Harrington had only sketched upon paper, they expected a 
constitution which should be perfect and perpetual. Politicks 
has produced enthusiasts as well as religion ; and in the theory 
of our constitution they could trace their fancied model of 
perfection. To the mind of the dreamer in speculation the 
government Avas a phantom; and to adorn it his fancy had 
stolen from the evening cloud the gaudiest of its luies: he 
had dipped his pencil in the rainbow to portray a picture of 
national felicity for admiration to gaze at. Then was the time 
to tell of virtue being raised from the dungeon, where priests 
and tyrants had confined her ; and that science had been courted 
from the skies to meet her : then was the time to talk of 
restoring the golden age, without being laughed at ; and many 
seemed to believe that a political millennium was about to 
commence. 

But here end our heroes. When they quitted the theory 
to attend to the administration of government, they descended 
to vulgar prose. They found, that their admired plan of freedom 
of election had produced a too faithful representation of the 
electors ; and that something more, and something worse than 
the publick wisdom and integrity were represented. They 
often heard the unmeaning din of vulgar clamour excited to 
make that odious which was right, and that popular which was 
wrong. 

They well kncAV, that the laws were made supreme, and 
that politicks should have no passions. Yet it was soon per- 
ceived, that the legislators themselves sometimes felt, and too 
often feared and obeyed, the sudden passions and ignorant 
prejudices of their constituents. They expected a government 
by laws, and not by men ; and they were chagrined to see, that 
the feelings of the people wei'e not only consulted in all 
instances, but that in many they were allowed to legislate. 
They had hoped, that the supreme power would prove, to all 
legal purposes, omnipotent ; and they were thrown into abso- 



14 CAMILLUS. 

lute despair, when they found, that not only individuals, but 
conventions, and other bodies of men, unknov\^n to tlie con- 
stitution, presumed to revise, and in effect to repeal, the acts 
of the legislature. Besides, the first years of the millennium 
had fallen far short of the expected felicity. But w^hen a mad 
people flew to arms ; when they found, that, in spite of the 
indocile and impenetrable stupidity of the insurgents, there 
was so much meaning in their wickedness ; and that the rea- 
sonings of great numbers, who espoused the cause of govern- 
ment, were almost as hostile as the violence of the other 
party, they gave way to their spleen and disappointment, and 
declared their conviction, that a republican government was 
impracticable and absurd. They argued, as they said, from 
facts as Avell as from principles, that such a government Avas 
cursed with inherent inefficiency ; and that property was more 
precarious than under a despot : a despot, they said, is a man, 
and would fear the retaliation of his tyranny ; but an enthu- 
siastick majority, steeled against compassion, and blind to 
reason, are equally sheltered from shame and punishment. 
The theory of the constitution has not escaped the havock of 
their fastidious criticism : and they have seen, with com- 
placency, the stupid fury of Shays and his banditti employed 
to introduce a more stable government, whose powers, they 
predicted, would soon be lodged in the hands of abler men. 
They raved about monarchy, as if we v/ere ripe for it ; and as 
if we were willing to take fi'om the plough-tail or dram-shop 
some vociferous committee man, and to array him in royal 
purple with all the splendour of a king of the Gypsies. So far 
as we may argue from the sympathy, which fools and knaves 
have for their fellows, and from the fact of Luke Day's in- 
fluence hi the rebellion, the presumption is, that our king, 
whenever Providence in its wrath shall send us one, will be a 
blockhead or a i-ascal. 

The sons of science, v.ho have adopted this reprehensible 
mode of reasoning, are, notwithstanding, the most sincere 
lovers of their country : they are not the men to subvert 



CAMILLUS. 15 

empires. I will repeat for their consideration some observa- 
tions, which, though trite, are not unreasonable. 

• The idea of a royal or aristocratical government for America, 
is very absurd. It is repugnant to the genius, and totally 
incompatible with the circumstances of our country. Our 
interests and our choice have made us republicans. We are 
too poor to maintain, and too proud to acknowledge, a king. 
The spirit of finance and the ostentation of power would create 
burdens ; these would produce the Shayses and the Wheelers. 
The army must be augmented ; discontent and oppression 
would augment of consequence. But this is mei"e idle spe- 
culation ; for eveiy honest man is surely bound to give his 
support to the existing government, until its power becomes 
intolerable. A change, though for the better, is always to be 
deplored by the generation in which it is effected. Much is 
lost, and more is hazarded. Our republick has not yet been 
allowed a fair trial. The rebellion has called forth its powers, 
and pointed out, most clearly, the means of giving it stability : 
let us, therefore, cherish and defend our constitution; and 
Avhen time and wealth shall have corrupted it, our posterity 
may perform the melancholy task of laying in human blood' 
and misery, as we have done, the foundations of another 
government. We, who are now upon the stage, bear upon 
our memories too deep an impression of the miseries of the 
last revolution to think of attempting another. 

It is an Herculean labour to detail our political absiu-dities. 
Srince the days of Cromwell there has not been an instance of 
such genei-al infatuation. But while almost every tavern and 
conversation circle Averc infested with the harangues of the 
emissaries of treason, who without fear or measure reviled 
the government, and without shame perverted the truth, the 
opinions of the people at large were inevitably tainted with the 
impurity of the source from which they were derived. 

Nor was the agency of rebel emissaries the only cause of 
popular eiTour. Where so much \ineasiness prevailed against 
government, they could not be pursuaded, that all was right. 
The sufferers, many supposed, were the best able to decide 



16 CAMILLUS. 

upon the reality of their grievances ; and so many honest men 
would not combine to deceive them. The general court, in 
their last session, had given some colour to these presumptions, 
and no small consequence to the party, by the minute attention 
wliich they paid to their complaints, before they adopted miea- 
sures to suppress the rebellion, and by the laws of an unpre- 
cedented nature, enacted for their relief. Great numbers took 
their fears for their counsellors, and thought it rashness to 
contend against the invincible host of insurgents. Another 
state tax was more dreaded by many, than the subversion of 
government. Some said, very gravely, Shays himself is for 
government; while others, as absurdly, in the zeal of their 
philanthropy against shedding blood, seemed wholly to forget, 
that the right of self defence belongs to rulers as plainly as to 
private men. In matters of etiquette and punctilio, the apostles 
of mischief seemed agreed, that it was more proper for the 
rulers of a great commonwealth, than for the leaders of a ragged 
banditti, to make concessions. Disappointed men have hoped 
to gratify their ambition or their revenge : the abolition of 
public and private debts has been a favourite object with some : 
others (such has been the extreme of frenzy) have contended 
for an equal distribution of property : while the giddy multitude 
have enjoyed the bustle of parties, and have found amusement 
in destruction. 

With what impressions will the impartial world perUse the 
record of these facts ? They will be ready to affirm, with the 
lunatick, that all the world had gone mad, except a few, who, 
for their sobrielv, were confined in Bedlam. 



CAMILLUS. N^. III. 

WE cannot look back, without terrour, upon the dangers 
we have escaped. Our country has stood upon the verge of 
ruin. Divided against itself; the ties of common union dis- 
solved ; all parties claiming authority, and refusing obedience ; 



CAMILLUS. 17 

cvcty hope of safety, except one, has been extinguished ; and 
that has rested solely upon the prudence and firmness of our 
rulers. Fortunately, they have been uninfected with the frenzy 
of the times. They have done their duty, and have shewn 
themselves the faithful guardians of liberty, as well as of power. 
But much remains to do. Sedition, thou'^h intimidated, is 
not disarmed. It is a period of adversity. We are in debt to 
foreigners. Large sums are due internally. The taxes are 
in arrears, and are accumulating. Manufactures are destitute 
of materials, capital, and skill. Agriculture is despondent; 
commerce bankrupt. These are themes for factious clamour, 
more than sufficient to rekindle the rebellion. The combusti- 
bles are collected ; the mine is prepared ; the smallest spai'k 
may again produce an explosion. 

This is a crisis in our aifairs, which requires all the wisdom 
and energy of government : for every man of sense must be 
convinced, that our disturbances have arisen more from the 
want of power, than the abuse of it ; from the relaxation, and 
almost annihilation of our federal government ; from the feeble, 
unsystematick, temporising, inconstant character of our own 
state ; from the derangement of our finances, the oppressive 
absurdity of our mode of taxation ; and from the astonishing 
enthusiasm and perversion of principles among the people. 
It is not extraordinary that commotions have been excited. It 
is strange, under the circumstances which we have been dis- 
cussing, that they did not appear sooner and terminate more 
fatally. For let it be remarked, that a feeble government 
produces more factions than an oppressive one : the want of 
power first makes individuals legislators, and then rebels. 
Where parents want authority, children are wanting in duty. 
It is not possible to advance further in the same path. Here 
the ways divide ; the one will conduct us first to anarchy, and 
next to foreign or domestick tyi'anny ; the other, by the wise 
and vigorous exertion of lawful authority, will lead to per- 
manent power, and general prosperity. I am no advocate for 
despotism ; but I believe the probability to be much less of its 
being introduced by the corruption of our rulers, than by the 



18 CAMILLUS. 

delusion of the people. Experience has demonstrated that 
new maxims of administration are indispensable. It is notj 
however, by sixpenny retrenchments of salaries ; nor by levying 
war against any profession of men ; nor by giving substance 
and existence to the frothy essences and fantastick forms of 
speculation ; nor is it by paper money, or an abolition of debts ; 
nor by implicit submission to the insolence of beggarly con- 
ventions ; nor by the temporary expedients of little minds, 
that authority can be rendered stable, and the people prosper- 
ous. A well digested, liberal, permanent system of policy is 
required ; and, when adopted, must be supported, in spite of 
faction, against every thing but amendment. The confederal 
tioh must be amended. 

While the bands of union are so loose, we are no more 
entitled to the character of a nation than the hordes of vaga- 
bond traitors. Reason has ever condemned our paltry pre- 
judices upon this important subject : now that experience has 
come in aid of reason, let us renounce them. For what is 
there now to prevent our subjugation by foreign power, but 
their contempt of the acquisition ? It is time to render the 
federal head supreme in the United States. It is also time to 
render the general court supreme in Massachusetts. Con- 
ventions have too long, and indeed too unequally, divided 
power. Until this is effected, we cannot depend upon the 
success of any plaiis of reformation. When this is done, we 
ought to attempt the revival of publick and private credit. 
With what decency can we pretend, that republicks are sup- 
ported by virtue, if we presume upon the foulest of all motives, 
our own advantage, to release the obligation of contracts ? 

Some measures to provide for the common safety and 
defence are necessary. It ought to be considered how far, and 
in what manner, this may be accomplished, by perfecting the 
discipline of the militia, or by calling them into actual service 
by rotation. Taxation is a subject of the greatest nicety and 
difficulty. When men of the first information have devised a 
plan, experience only can give it the stamp of excellence. The 
established mode is despicable in the extreme. It is arbitrary, 



CAMILLUS. 19 

uncertain, and unequal ; the smallest possible sum is taken 
out of the pockets of the people, and it is kept the longest pos- 
sible time out of the hands of the commonwealth. 

These impoitant subjects deserve a distinct investigation. 
Perhaps, at some future period, the writer may be seduced 
by his zeal for the stability of the government, or by his 
vanity, to attempt it. 

But, in the mean time, he would warn his countiymen, that 
our commonwealth stands upon its probation. If we make a 
wise use of the advantages, which, with innumerable mischiefs, 
the rebellion has afforded, our government may last. This is 
the tide in our affairs, which, if taken at the flood, will lead to 
glory. If we neglect it, ruin will be inevitable. It is in vain 
to expect security in future merely from the general convic- 
tion, that government is necessary, and that treason is a crime. 
It is vain to depend upon that virtue, which is said to sustain 
a commonwealth. This is the high flown nonsense of philo- 
sophy, which experience daily refutes. It is still more absurd, 
to expect to prevent commotions by conforming the laws to 
popular humours, so that faction shall have nothing to complain 
of, and folly nothing to ask for. 

There is in nature, and there must be in the administration 
of government, a fixed rule and standard of political conduct, 
and that is, the greatest permanent happiness of the greatest 
number of the people. If we substitute for these maxims 
the wild projects, which fascinate the multitude in daily suc- 
cession, we may amuse ourselves with extolling the nice 
proportions and splendid architecture of our i^epublican fabrick. 
But it will be no better than a magnificent temple of ice, 
which the first south wind of sedition will demolish. 

Anarchy and government are both before us, and in our 
choice. If we fall, we fall by our folly, not our fate. And 
we shall evince to the astonished world, of how small influence 
to produce national happiness are the fairest gifts of heaven, 
a healthful climate, a fruitful soil, and inestimable laws, when 
they are conferred upon a frivolous, perverse, and ungrateful 
generation. 



C 20 3 



SPEECH 

IN THE CONVENTION OF MASSACHUSETTS, ON BIENNIAL 
ELECTIONS. 

DELIVERED JANUARY, 1788. 



X DO not regret, Mr. President, that we are not unanimous 
upon this question. I do not consider the diversity of senti- 
ment which prevails, as an impediment in our way to the 
discovery of truth. In order that we may think alike upon 
this subject at last, we shall be compelled to discuss it by 
ascending to the principles, upon which the doctrine of repre- 
sentation is grounded. 

Without premeditation, in a situation so novel, and awed 
by the respect which I feel for this venerable assembly, I 
distrust extremely my o^vn feelings, as well as my com- 
petency to prosecute this inquiry*. With the hope of an 
indulgent hearing, I will attempt to proceed. I am sensible, 
sir, that the doctrine of frequent elections has been sanctified 
by antiquity ; and it is still more endeared to us by our riecent 
experience, and uniform habits of thinking. Gentlemen have 
expressed their zealous partiality for it. They consider this as 
a leading question in the debate, and that the merits of many 
other parts of the constitution are involved in the decision, I 
confess, sir, and I declare, that my zeal for frequent elections 
is not inferiour to their own. I consider it as one of the first 
securities for popular liberty, in which its very essence may 
be supposed to reside. But how shall we make the best use 
of this pledge and instrument of our safety ? A right principle., 
cai'ried to an extreme, becomes useless. It is apparent that 

* This was Mr. Ames's first speech in a state assemblj'. 



SPEECH ON BIENNIAL ELECTIONS. 21 

a delegation for a very short term, as for a single day, would 
defeat the design of representation. The election in that case 
Would not seem to the people to be of any importance, and 
the person elected would think as lightly of his appointment. 
The other extreme is equally to be avoided. An election 
for a very long term of years, or for life, would remove the 
member too far from the controul of the people, would be 
dangerous to liberty, and in fact repugnant to the purposes 
of the delegation. The truth, as usual, is placed somewhere 
between the extremes, and I believe is included in this pro- 
position : the term of election must be so long, that the repre- 
sentative may understand the interests of the people, and yet 
so limited, that his fidelity may be secured by a dependence 
upon their approbation. 

Before I proceed to the application of this rule, I cannot 
forbear to premise some remarks upon two opinions which 
have been suggested. 

Much has been said about the people's divesting themselves 
of power, when they delegate it to representatives ; and that 
all representation is to their disadvantage, because it is but an 
image, a copy, fainter and more imperfect than the original, 
■the people, in whom the light of power is primary and un- 
bon'owed, which is only reflected by their delegates. I cannot 
agree to either of these opinions. The representation of the 
people is something more than the people. I know, sir, but 
«ne purpose, which the people can effect without delegation, 
and that is, to destroy a government. That they cannot erect 
a govei'nment, is evmced by otu' being thus assembled on their 
behalf. The people must govern by a majority, with whom 
all power resides. But how is the sense of this majority to be 
obtained ? It has been said, that a pure democracy is the best 
government for a small people, who may assemble in person. 
It is of small consequence to discuss it, as it would be inap- 
plicable to the great country we uihabit. It may be of some 
Use in this argument, however, to consider, that it would be 
very burdensoiT[ie, subject to faction and violence : decisions 



22 SPEECH ON * 

would often be made by surprise, in the precipitancy of passion, 
by men who either understand nothing-, or care nothing about 
the subject ; or by interested men, or those who vote for their 
oAvn indemnity. It would be a government not by laws, but 
by men. Such were the paltry democracies of Greece and 
Asia Minor, so much extolled, ^ and so often proposed as a 
model for our imitation. I desire to be thankful, that our 
people are not under any temptation to adopt the advice. I 
think it will not be denied, that the people are gainers by the 
election of representatives. They may destroy, but they can- 
not exercise, the powers of government in person ; but by 
their servants, they govern : they do not renounce their power ; 
they do not sacrifice their rights ; they become the true sove- 
reigns of the country, when they delegate that power, which 
they cannot use themselves, to their trustees. 

I KNOW, sir, that the people talk about the liberty of nature* 
and assert, that we divest ourselves of a portion of it, when 
we enter into society. This is declamation against matter of 
fact. We cannot live without society ; and as to liberty, how 
can I be said to enjoy that which another may take from me, 
when he pleases. The liberty of one depends not so much 
on the removal of all restraint from him, as on the due re- 
straint upon the liberty of others. Without such restraint, 
there can be no liberty. Liberty is so far from being endanger- 
ed or destroyed by this, theit it is extended and secured. For 
I said, that we do not enjoy that which another may take from 
us. But civil liberty cannot be taken from us, when any one 
may please to invade it ; for we have the strength of the 
society of our side. 

I HOPE, sir, that these reflections will have some tendency 
to remove the ill impressions, which are made by proposing 
to divest the people of their power. 

That they may never be divested of it, I repeat, that I am 
in favour of frequent elections. They Avho commend annual 
elections are desired to consider, that the question is, whether 
biennial elections are a defect in the constitution : for it does 



BIENNIAL ELECTIONS. 23 

not follow, because annual elections are safe, that biennial are 
dangerous ; for both may be good. Nor is there any foundation 
for the fears of those who say, that, if we, who have been accus- 
tomed to choose for one year only, now extend it to two, the 
next stride will be to five, or seven years, and the next for 
term of life : for this article, with all its supposed defects, is 
in favour of liberty. Bemg inserted in the constitution, it is 
not subject to be repealed by law. We are sure, that it is the 
worst of the case. 

It is a fence against ambitious encroachments, too high and 
too strong to be passed : in this respect, we have greatly the 
advantage of the people of England, and of all the world. The 
law which limits their parliaments is liable to be repealed. 

I WILL not defend this article by saying, that it was a matter 
of compromise in the federal convention: it has my entire 
approbation, as it stands. I think that we ought to prefer, in 
this article, biennial elections to annual ; and my reasons for 
this opinion are drawn from these sources. 

From the extent of the country to be governed. 

The objects of their legislation. 

And the more perfect security of our libeity. 

It seems obvious, that men, who are to collect in congress 
from this great territory, perhaps from the bay of Fundy, or 
from the banks of the Ohio, and the shore of Lake Superiour, 
ought to have a longer term in office, than the delegates of a 
single state, in their own legislature. It is not by riding post 
to and from congress, that a man can acquire a just knowledge 
of the true interests of the union. This tenn of election is 
inapplicable to the state of a country, as large as Germany, or 
as the Roman empire in the zenith of its power. 

If we consider the objects of their delegation, little doubt 
will remain. It is admitted, that annual elections may be highly 
fit for the state legislature. Every citizen grows up with a 
knowledge of the local circumstances of the state : but the 
business of the federal government will be very different. 
The objects of their power are few and national. At least two 



24 SPEECH ON 

years in office will be necessary to enable a man to judge ol' 
the trade and interests of states, which he never saw. The 
time, I hope, will come, when this excellent country will 
furnish food, and freedom, (which is better than food, which 
is the food of the soul) for fifty millions of happy people. 
Will any man say, that the national business can be under- 
stood in one year ? 

Biennial elections appear to me, sir, an essential security 
to liberty. These are my reasons. 

Faction and enthusiasm are the instruments, by which 
popular governments are destroyed. We need not talk of 
the power of an aristocracy. The people, when they lose their 
liberties, are cheated out of them. They nourish factions in 
their bosoms, which will subsist so long as abusing their 
honest credulity shall be the means of acquiring power. A 
democracy is a volcano, which conceals the fiery materials of 
its own destruction. These will produce an eruption, and 
carry desolation in their way. The people always mean right, 
and if time is allowed for reflection and information, they will 
do right. I would not have the first wish, the momentary 
impulse of the publick mmd, become law. For it is not always 
the sense of the people, with whom, I admit, that all power 
resides. On great questions, we first hear the loud clamours 
of passion, artifice, and faction. I consider biennial elections 
as a security, that the sober, second thought of the people 
shall be law. There is a calm review of publick transac- 
tions, which is made by tlie citizens, who have families and 
children, the pledges of their fidelity. To provide for popular 
liberty, we must take care that measures shall not be adopted 
without due deliberation. The member chosen for two years 
will feel some independence in his seat : the factions of the 
day will expire before the end of his term. 

The people will be proportionally attentive to the merits of 
a candidate. Two years will afford opportunity to the mem- 
ber to deserve well of them, and they will require evidence 
that he has done it. 



BIENNIAL ELECTJONS. 25 

But, sir, the representatives are the grand inquisition of the 
union. They are by impeachment to bring great offenders 
to justice. One year will not suffice to detect guilt, and to 
pursue it to conviction : therefore it will escape, and the 
balance of the two branches will be destroyed, and the people 
oppressed with impunity. The senators will represent the 
sovereignty of the states. The representatives are to repre- 
sent the people. The offices ought to bear some proportion 
in point of importance. This will be impossible, if they are 
cliosen for one year only. 

Will the people then blind the eyes of their own watch- 
men ? Will they bind the hands which are to hold the sword 
for their defence ? Will they impair their own power, by an 
unreasonable jealousy of themselves ? 

For these reasons I am clearly of opinion, that the article 
is entitled to dur approbation as it stands : and as it has been 
demanded, Avhy annual elections were not preferred to biennial, 
permit me to retort fife question, and to inquire in my turn, 
what reason can be given, why, if annual elections are good, 
biennial elections are not better ? 



C 26 ] 



SPEECH ON MR. MADISON'S RESOLUTIONS. 

ON the 3d of January, 1794, Mr. Madison, a member from Virginia, proposed to the house 
of representatives of the United States a series of resolutions, to impose higher duties, and 
lay greater restrictions, on the manufactures, products, and ships, and on particular 
branches of trade, of a certain nation, or of nations therein described. In explanation of 

• his motives and views, he spoke of the security and extension of our commerce, as a prin- 
cipal object for which the federal govennnent was formed. He urged the tendency ot 
bis resolutions to secure to us an equitable share of the caiTying trade ; that they wonJd 
enable other nations to enter into a competition with Kngland for supplying us with 
manufactures; and in this way he insisted that our counti-y could make /icr enemies feel 
the extent of her power, by depriving those who manufactured for us of tlieir bread. He 
adverted to the measiuvs enforced by a certain nation, contrary to our maritime rights; 
and out of the proceeds of the extra impositions proposed, he recommended a reimburse- 
ment to our citizens of their losses arising from those measures. He maintained, that, if 
the nation cannot protect the rights of its citizens, it ouglit to repay the damage ; and that 
we are bound to obtain reparation for the injustice of foreign nations to our citizens, ot- 
to compensate them oin-selves. a 
On the other hand, Mr. Ames thought, that, " whatever specious shew of advantage might 
be given to the policy ])roposed in the resolutions, it would prove an aggravation and not a 
remedy of any supposed or real e\nls in our commercial system." He considtrtd the zeal 
for imlimited freedom of commerce as affected and insincere. He thought it ridiculous in 
this country to pretend, at this time, to change the general policy of nations ; and to liegin 
the abolit'on of restrictions by enacting non-importation laws. Shutting up the best 
markets for exports, and confining ourselves to the worst, for om- imports, was peculiarly 
inconsistent and absurd in those who profess to aim at the benefit of trade. To him it 
appeared, that under the pretence of makii^g trade better, it was to be annihilated : that 
it m'ght serve France, but would certainly injure us. He saw too plainly that our trade 
was to wage war for our politicks, and to be used as the instrument of gratifying political 
resentments. 

The way harl lieen prepared for these resolutions by a report from Mr. Jefferson, as seoretaiy 
of state, on the same subject, which had been long laboured to give it the aspect which it 
bore. Mr. Ames saw, or thought he saw, in these meas\n'es, the meditated overthrow of 
the commercial prosperity of the United States, and especially of that part of them whose 
interests were particidarly confided to his care. With these impressions, he made the fol- 
lowing speech on the 27th of the same month, 1794. 

X HE question lies within this compass, is there any mea- 
sure proper to be adopted by congress, which will have the 
effect to put our trade and navigation on a better footing ? If 
there is, it is our undoubted right to adopt it ; if by right is 
understood xhe power of self-government, which every indepen- 
dent nation possesses, and our own as completely as any other, 
it is our duty also, for we are the depositaries and the guardians 
of the interests of our constituents, which, on every considera- 



MR. MADISON'S RESOLUTIONS. 27 

tion, ought to be dear to us. I make no doubt they are so, and 
that there is a disposition sufficiently ardent existing in this 
body to co-operate in any measures for the advancement of 
the common good. Indeed, so far as I can judge from any 
knowledge I have of human nature, or of the prevailing spirit of 
publick transactions, that sort of patriotism, which makes us 
wish the general prosperity, when our private interest does not 
happen to stand in the way, is no vincommon sentiment. In 
truth, it is very like self-love, and not much less prevalent, 
inhere is little occasion to excite and inflame it. It is, like 
self-love, more apt to want intelligence than zeal. The danger 
is always, that it will rush blindly into embarassments, which 
a prudent spirit of inquiry might have prevented, but from 
which it will scarcely find means to extricate us. While 
therefore the right, the duty, and the inclination to advance 
the trade and navigation of the United States, are acknowledged 
and felt by us all, the choice of the proper means to that end is 
a matter requiring the most circimispect inquiry, and the most 
dispassionate judgment. 

After a debate has continued a long time, the subject very 
frequently becomes tiresome before it is exhausted. Argu- 
ments, however solid, urged by different speakers, can scaixely 
fail to render the discussion both complex and diffusive. 
Without pretending to give to my arguments any other merit, 
I shall aim at, simplicity. 

WsJiear it declared, that the design of the resolutions is 
to plade our trade and navigation on abetter footing. By better 
footing, we are to understand a moi'e profitable one. Profit is 
a plain word, that cannot be misunderstood. 

We have, to speak in round numbers, twenty million dol- 
lars of exports annually. To have the trade of exports on a 
good footing, means nothing more than to sell them dear ; and 
consequently the trade of import on a good footing, is to buy 
, cheap. To put them both on a better footing, is to sell dearer 
and to buy cheaper than we do at present. If the effect of the 
resolutions will be to cause our exports to be sold cheaper, 



28 SPEECH ON 

aiid our imports to be bought dearer, our trade will suffer an 
injury. 

It is hard to compute how great the injuxy would prove ; 
for the first loss of value in the buying dear, and selling cheap, 
is only the symptom and beginning of the evil, but by no means 
the measure of it ; it will withdraw a great part of the nourish- 
ment, that now supplies the wonderful growth of our industry 
and opulence. The difference may not amount to a great 
proportion of the price of the articles, but it may reach the 
greater part of the profit of the producer ; it may have effects 
in this way which will be of the worst kind, by discouraging 
the products of our land and industry. It is to this test I pro- 
pose to bring the resolutions on the table ; and if it shall clearly 
appear, that they tend to cause our exports to be sold cheaper, 
and our imports to be bought dearer, they cannot escape con- 
demnation. Whatever specious shew of advantage may be 
given them, they deserve to be called aggravations of any real 
or supposed evils in our commercial system, and not remedies. 

I HAVK framed this statement of the question so as to com- 
prehend the whole subject of debate, and, at the same time, I 
confess it was my design to exclude from consideration a 
number of topicks, which appear to me totally irrelative to it. 

The best answer to many assertions we have heard is, to 
admit them without proof. , We are exhorted to assert our 
natural rights ; to put trade on a respectable footing ; to 
dictate terms of trade to other nations ; to engage in a contest 
of self-denial, and, by that, and by shifting our commerce from 
one country to another, to make our enemies feel the extent 
of our power. This language, as it respects the proper sub- 
ject of discussion, means nothing, or what is worse. If our 
trj>.de is already on a profitable footing, it is on a respectable 
one. Unless war be our object, it is useless to inquire, what 
are the dispositions of any government, with whose subjects 
our merchants deal to the best advantage. While they will 
smoke our tobacco, and eat our provisions, it is very immaterial, 
both to the consumer and the producer, what are the politicks 



MR. MADISON'S RESOLUTIONS. 29 

of the two countries, excepting so far as their quarrels may 
disturb the benefits of their mutual intercourse. 

So far therefore as commerce is concerned, the inquiry is, 
have we a good market. 

The good or bad state of our actual market is the question. 
The actual market is eveiy where more or less a restricted 
one, and the natural order of things is displaced by the artificial. 
Most nations, for reasons of which they alone are the rightful 
judges, have regulated and I'estricted their intercourse, accord- 
ing to their views of safety and profit. We claim for ourselves 
the same right, as the acts in our statute book, and the resolu- 
tions on the table evince, without holding ourselves accountable 
to any other nation whatever. The right, which we properly 
claim, and which we properly exercise, when we do it pru- 
dently and usefully for our nation, is as well established, and 
has been longer in use in the countries of which we complain, 
than in our o^vn. If their right is as good as that of congress, 
to regulate and restrict, why do we talk of a strenuous exertion 
of our force, and by dictating terms to nations, who are fancied 
to be physically dependent on America, to change the policy of 
nations ? It may be very true, that their policy is veiy wise and 
good for themselves, but not as favourable for us as we could 
make it, if we covdd legislate for both sides of the Atlantick. 

The extravagant despotism of this language accords very 
ill with our power to give it effect, or with the affectation of 
zeal for an unlimited freedom of commerce. Such a state of 
absolute freedom of commerce never did exist, and it is very 
much to be doubted whether it ever will. Were I invested 
with the trust to legislate for mankind, it is very probable the 
first act of my authority would be to throw all the restrictive 
and prohibitory laws of trade into the fire ; the resolutions on 
the table would not be spared. But if I were to do so, it is 
probable I should have a quarrel on my hands with every 
civilized nation. The Dutch would claim the monopoly of the 
spice trade, for which their ancestors passed their whole lives 
in warfare. The Spaniards and Portuguese would be no less 
obstinate. If we calculate what colony monopolies have cost 



30 SPEECH ON 

in wealth, in suffering, and in crimes, we shall say they were 
deariy purchased. The English would plead for their navigation 
act, not as a source of gain, but as an essential means oi 
securing their independence. So many interests would be dis- 
turbed, and so many lost, by a violent change from the existing 
to an unknown order of thmgs ; and the mutual relations of 
nations, in respect to their poAver and wealth, would suffer such 
a shock, that the idea must be allowed to be perfectly Utopian 
and wild. But for this country to foi^m the project of changing 
the policy of nations, and to begin the abolition of restrictions 
by restrictions of its own, is equally ridiculous and inconsistent. 

Let every nation, that is really disposed to extend the 
liberty of commerce, beware of rash and hasty schemes of 
prohibition. In the affairs of trade, as in most others, v/e make 
too many laws. We follow experience too little, and the visions 
of theorists a great deal too much. Instead of listening to dis- 
coiu'ses on what the market ought to be, and what the schemes, 
which always promise much on paper, pretend to make it, let 
us see what is the actual market for our exports and imports. 
This will bring vague fissertions and sanguine opinions to the 
test of experience. That rage for theory and system, which 
would entangle even practical truth in the web of the brain, is 
the poison of public discussion. One fact is better than two 
systems. 

The terms, on which our exports are received in the British 
market, have been accvirately examined by a gentleman fron> 
South Cai'olina (Mr. Wm. Smith). Before his statement of 
facts was made to the committee, it was urged, and with no lit- 
tle warmth, that the system of England indicated her inveteracy 
towards this countiy, while that of France, springing from 
disinterested affection, constitvited a claim for gratitude and 
self-denying measures of retribution. 

Since that stcrtement, however, that romaiitick style, which 
is so ill adapted to the subject, has been changed. We 
hear it insinviated, that the comparison of the footing of our 
exports, in the markets of France and England, is of no im- 
portance ; that it is chiefly our object, to see how we may assist 



MR. MADISON'S RESOLUTIONS. 31 

:uul extend our commerce. This evasion of the force of the 
statement, or rather this indirect admission of its authority, 
establishes it. It will not be pretended, that it has been shaken 
during the debate. 

It has been made to appear, beyond contradiction, that the 
British market for our exports, taken in the aggregate, is a 
good one ; that it is better than the French, and better than 
iuiy we have, and for many of our products the only one. 

The whole amount of our exports to the British dominions, 
in the year ending the 30th September, 1790, was nine mil- 
lions two hundred and forty six thousand six hundred and six 
dollars. 

But it will be more simple and satisfactory to confine the 
inquiry to the aiticles following ; 

Bread stuff, tobacco, rice, wood, the produce of the fisheries, 
fish-oil, pot and pearl ash, salted meats, indigo, live animals, 
flax-seed, naval stores, and iron. 

The amount of the before mentioned articles, exported in 
that same year to the British domimons, was eight millions 
fovir hundred and fifty seven thousand one hundred and seventy 
tliree dollars. 

We have heard so much of restriction, of inimical and jea- 
lous prohibitions to cramp our trade, it is natural to scrutinize 
the British system, with the expectation of finding little besides 
the effects of her selfish and angry policy. 

Yet of the great sum of nearly eight millions and an half, 
the amount of the products before mentioned sold in her mar- 
kets, two articles only are dutied by way of restriction. Bread 
stuff is dutied so high in the market of Great Britain, as, in 
times of plenty, to exclude it, and this is done from the desire 
to favour her own farmers. The mover of the resolutions 
justified the exclusion of our bread stuff from the French 
West-Indies by their permanent regulations, because, he said, 
they were bound to prefer their o\vn products to those even of 
the United States. It would seem that the same apology would 
do for England, in her home market. But what v. ill do for the 
vindication of one nation becomes invective against another. 



32 SPEECH ON 

The criminal nation however receives our bread stuff in the 
West-Indies free, and excludes other foi'eign, so as to give our 
producers the monopoly of the supply. This is no merit in the 
judgment of the mover of the resolutions, because it is a frag- 
ment of her old colony system. Notwithstanding the nature of 
the duties on bread stuff in Great Britain, it has been clearly 
shewn that she is a better customer for that article, in Europe, 
than her neighbour France. The latter, in ordinary times, is 
a poor customer for bread stuff, for the same reason that our 
own country is, because she produces it herself, and therefore 
France permits it to be imported, and the United States do the 
like. Great Britain often wants the article, and then she receives 
it ; no country can be expected to buy what it does not want. 
The bread stuff sold in the European dominions of Britain, in 
the year 1790, amounted to one million eighty seven thousand 
eight hundred and forty dollars. 

Whale-oil pays the heavy duty of eighteen pounds three 
shillings sterling per ton ; yet spermaceti oil found a market 
there to the value of eighty one thousand and forty eight 
dollars. 

Thus it appears, that of eight millions and an half, sold to 
Great Britain and her dominions, only the value of one million 
one hundred and sixty eight thousand dollars was under duty 
of a restrictive nature. The bread stuff is hardly to be con- 
sidered as within the description ; yet, to give the argument its 
full force, what is it ; about one eighth part is restricted. To 
proceed with the residue : 

Indigo to the amount of. S 473,830 

Live animals to the West-Indies 62,415 

Flax-seed to Great Britain 219,924 



Total 8 756,169 



These articles are received, duty free, which is a good foot 
to the trade. Yet we find, good as it is, the bulk of our exports 
is received on even better terms : 



MR. MADISON'S RESOLUTIONS. 33 

Flour to the British West-Indies S 858,006 

Gram 273,505 

Free. ...while other foreign flour and grain are pro- 
hibited. 

Tobacco to Great Britain : 2,754,493 

Ditto to the West-Indies 22,816 

One shilling and three pence sterling, duty ; three 
shillings and six pence on other foreign tobacco. 

In the West-Indies other foreign tobacco is pro- 
hibited. 

Rice to Great Britain 773,852 

Seven shillings and four pence per cwt. duty ; 
eight shillings and ten pence on other foreign rice. 

To West-Indies 180,077 

Other foreign rice prohibited. 

Wood to Great Britain 240,174 

Free. ...higher duties on other foreign. 

To West-Indies 382,481 

Free. ...other foreign prohibited. 

Pot and pearl ashes 747,078 

Free. ...two shillings and three pence on other 
foreign, equal to ten dollars per ton. 

Naval stores to Great Britain 190 670 

Higher duties on other foreign. 

To West-Indies 5 ig2 

Free. ...Other foreign prohibited. 

Iron to Great Britain 81 612 

Free....duties on other foreign. 

S 6,510,926 

Thus it appears, that nearly seven-eighths of the exports 
to the British dominions are received on terms of positive 
favour. Foreigners, our rivals in the sale of these articles, 
are either absolutely shut out of their market by prohibitions, 
or discouraged in their competition with us by higher duties. 
There is some x'estriction, it is admitted, but there is, to balance 

it, a large amount received duty free ; and a half goes to the 

5 



■34: SPEECH ON 

account of pvivilego and favour. This is better than she treats, 
any other foreign nation. It is better, indeed, than she treats 
her own subjects, because they are by this means deprived of 
a free and open market. It is better than our footing with any 
nation, with whom we have treaties. It has been demonstra- 
tively shewn, that it is better than the footing, on which France 
I'eceives either the like articles, or the aggregate of our pro- 
ducts. The best proof in the world is, that they are not sent to 
France. The merchants will find out the best market sooner 
than we shall. 

The footing of our exports, under the British system, is 
better than that of their exports to the United States, under 
our system. Nay, it is better than the freedom of commerce, 
which is one of the visions for which our solid prosperity is 
to be hazarded ; for, suppose we could batter down her system 
of prohibitions and restrictions, it would be gaining a loss ; one- 
eighth is restricted, and more than six-eighths has restrictions 
in its favour. It is as plain as figures can make it, that, if a 
state of freedom for our exports is at par, the present system 
raises them, in point of privilege, above par. To suppose that 
we can terrify them by these resolutions, to abolish their 
restrictions, and at the same time to maintain in our favour 
their duties, to exclude other foreigners from their market, is 
too absurd to be refuted. 

We have heard, that the market of France is the great 
centre of our interests ; we are to look to her, and hot to Eng- 
land, for advantages, being, as the style of theory is, our best 
customer and best friend, shewing to our trade particular 
favour and privilege ; while England manifests in her system 
such narrow and selfish views. It is strange to remark such a 
pointed refutation of asseitions and opinions by facts. The 
amount sent to France herself is very trivial. Either our mer^ 
chants are ignorant of the best markets, or those which they 
prefer are the best ; and if the English markets, in spite of the 
alleged ill usage, are still pi'eferred to the French, it is a proof • 
of the superiour advantages of the former over the latter. The 
arguments I have adverted to oblige those who urge them 



MR. MADISON'S RESOLUTIONS. 35 

to make a greater difference in favour of the English thai) 
the true state of facts will warrant. Indeed, if they persist 
in their arguments, they are bound to deny their own conclu- 
sions. They are boimd to admit this position : if France 
receives little of such of our products as Great Britain takes 
on terms of privilege and favour, because of that favour, it 
allows the value of that favoured footing. If France takes 
little of our articles, because she does not want them, it shews 
the absurdity of looking to her as the best customer. 

It may be said, and truly, that Great Britain regards 
only her own interest in these arrangements ; so much the 
better. If it is her interest to afford to our commerce more 
encouragement than France gives ; if she does this, when she 
is inveterate against us, as it is alleged, and when we are 
indulging an avowed hatred towards her, and partiality towards 
France, it shews that v^-e have very solid ground to rely on. 
Her interest is, according to this statement, stronger than our 
passions, stronger than her own, and is the more to be depend- 
ed on, as it cannot be put to any more tiying experiment in 
future. The good will and friendship of nations are hollow 
foundations to build our systems upon. Mutual interest is a 
bottom of rock : the fervour of transient sentiments is not 
better than straw or stubble. Some gentlemen have lamented 
this distrust of any relation between nations, except an interest- 
ed one ; but the substitution of any other principle could 
produce little else than the hypocrisy of sentiment, and an 
instability of affairs. It would be relying on what is not stable, 
instead of what is ; it would introduce into politicks the jargon 
of romance. It is in this sense, and this only, that the word 
favour is used : a state of things, so arranged as to produce 
our profit and advantage, though intended by Great-Britain 
merely for her own. The disposition of a nation is immate- 
rial ; the fact, that we profit by their system, cannot be so to this 
discussion. 

The next point is, to consider, whether our imports are on 
a good footing, or, in other words, whether we are in a situa- 
tion to buy what we have occasion for at a cheap rate. In this 



36 SPEECH ON 

view, the systems of the commercial nations are not to be com- 
plained of, as all are desirous of selling the products of their 
labour. Great Britain is not censured in this respect. The 
objection is rather of the opposite kind, that we buy too cheap, 
and therefore consume too much ; and that we take not only 
as much as we can pay for, but to the extent of our credit also. 
There is less freedom of importation, however, from the West- 
Indies. In this respect, France is more restrictive than Eng- 
land ; for the former allows the exportation to us of only rum. 
and molasses, while England admits that of sugar, coffee, and 
other principal West-India products. Yet, even here, when 
the preference seems to be decidedly due to the British sys- 
tem, occasion is taken to extol that of the French. We are 
told that they sell us the chief part of the mqlasses, which is 
consumed, or manufactured into rum ; and that a great and 
truly important branch, the distillery, is kept up by their liber- 
ality in furnishing the raw material. There is at every step 
matter to confirm the remark, that nations have framed their 
regulations to suit their own interests, not ours. France is a 
great brandy manufacturer ; she will not admit rum, therefore, 
even from her own islands, because it vvould supplant the con- 
sumption of brandy. The molasses was, for that reason, some 
years ago of no value in her islands, and was not even saved in 
casks. But the demand from our country soon raised its va- 
lue. The policy of England has been equally selfish. The 
molasses is distilled in her islands, becavise she has no manu- 
facture of brandy to suffer by its sale. 

A QUESTION remains respecting the state of our navigation. 
If we pay no regard to the regulations of foreign nations, and 
ask, whether this valuable branch of our industry and capital 
is in a distressed and sickly state, we shall find it is in a strong 
and flourishing condition. If the quantity of shipping was 
declining, if it was unemployed, even at low freight, I should 
say, it iBUSt be sustained and encouraged. No such thing is 
asserted. Seamen's wages are high, freights are high, and 
American bottoms in full employment. But the complaint is, 
our vessels av& not permitted to go to the British. West-Indies. 



MR. MADISON'S RESOLUTIONS. 37 

It is even affirmed, that no civilized country treats us so ill in 
that respect. Spain and Portugal prohibit the traffick to their 
possessions, not only in our vessels, but in their own, w^hich, 
according to the style of the resolutions, is worse treatment 
than we meet with from the British. It is also asserted, and 
on as bad ground, that our vessels are excluded from most of 
the British markets. 

This is not true in any sense. We are admitted into the 
greater number of her ports, in our own vessels ; and by far 
the grefiter value of our exports is sold in British poi'ts, into 
which our vessels are received, not only on a good footing, 
compured with other foreigners, but on terms of positive 
favour, on better terms than British vessels are admitted into 
puc own ports. We are not subject to the alien duties ; and 
the light money, Sec. of Is. 9d. sterling per ton is less than 
our foreign tonnage duty, not to mention the ten per cent, on 
the duties on goods in foreign bottoms. 

But in the port of London our vessels are received free. 
It is for the unprejudiced mind to compare these facts with 
the assertions we have heard so confidently and so feelingly 
made by the mover of the resolutions, that we are excluded 
from most of their ports, and that no civilized nation treats our 
vessels so ill as the Bi'itish. 

THE.tonnage of the vessels, employed between Great Britain 
and her dependencies and the United States, is called two hun- 
dred and twenty thousand ; and the whole of this is represented as 
our just right. The same gentleman speaks of our natural right 
to the carriage of our ovni articles, and that we may and ought 
to insist upon our equitable share. Yet, soon after, he uses 
the language of monopoly, and represents the whole carriage 
of imports and exports as the proper object of our efforts, and 
all that others carry as a clear loss to us. If an equitable share 
of the carriage means half, we have it already, and more, and 
our proportion is rapidly increasing. If any thing is meant 
by the natural right of carriage, one would imagine that it 
belongs to him, whoever he may be, who, having bought our 
produce, and made himself the owner, thinks proper to take 



38 SPEECH ON 

it with him to his oAvn country. It is neither our policy uur 
our design to check the sale of our produce. We invite every 
description of purchasers, because we expect to sell dearest, 
when the number and competition of the buyers is the greatest. 
For this reason the total exclusion of foreigners aiid their ves- 
sels from the purchase and carriage of our exports is an ad- 
vantage, in respect to navigation, Avhicn has disadvantage to 
balance it, in respect to the price of produce. It is with this 
reserve we ought to receive the remark, that the carriage of 
our exports should be our object, rather than that of our im- 
ports. By going with our vessels into foreign ports we buy 
our imports in the best market. By giving a steady and mo- 
derate encoui'agemcnt to our own shipping, without pretending 
violently to interrupt the course of business, experience wilf 
soon establish that order of things, Avhich is most beneficial to 
the exporter, the importer, and the ship owner. The best 
interest of agriculture is the true interest of trade. 

In a trade, mutually beneficial, it is strangely absurd to con- 
sider the gain of others as our loss. Admitting it however for 
argument sake, yet it should bo noticed, that the loss of two 
hundred and twenty thousand tons of shipping is computed 
according to the apparent tonnage. Our vessels* not being- 
allowed to go to the British West-Indies, their vessels, mak- 
ing frequent voyages, appear in the entries over and over 
again. In the trade to the European dominions of Great Britain, 
the distance being greater, our vessels are not so often entered. 
Both these circumstances give a false shew to the amount of 
British tonnage, compared with the American. It is however 
very pleasing to the mind, to see that our tonnage exceeds the 
British in the European trade. For various reasons, some of 
which will be mentioned hereafter, the tonnage in the West- 
India trade is not the proper subject of calculation. In the 
European comparison, we have more tonnage in the British 
than in the French commerce ; it is indeed more than four to 
one. 

The great quantity of British tomiage employed in our 
trade is also, in a ^rcat measure, owing to the large capitals 



MR. MADISON'S RESOLUTIONS. 39 

of their merchants, employed in the buying and exporting our 
productions. If we would banish the ships, we must strike at 
the root, and banish the capital. And this, before we have 
capital of our own grown up to replace it, would be an opera- 
tion of no little violence and injury, to our southern brethren 
especially. 

Independently of this circumstance, Great Britdn is an 
active and intelligent rival in the navigation line. Her shij>s 
are dearer, and the provisioning her seamen is perhaps rather 
dearer than ours; on the other hand, the rate of interest is lower 
in England, and so are seamen's wages. It would be impro- 
per, therefore, to consider the amount of British tonnage in 
our trade, as a proof of a bad state of things, arising either 
from the restrictions of that government, or the negligence or 
timidity of this. We are to charge it to causes, which arc 
more connected with the natural competition of capital and 
industry, causes, which in fact retarded the growth of our ship- 
ping more, when we were colonies, and our ships were free, 
than since the adoption of the present government. 

It has been said with emphasis, that the constitution grew 
out of the complaints of the nation respecting commerce, 
especially that with the British dominions. What was then 
lamented by our patriots? Feebleness of the publick counsels; 
the shadow of union, and scarcely the shadow of publick credit ; 
every Avhere despondence, the pressure of evils, not only great, 
but portentous of civil distractions. These v/ere the grievances ; 
sind what more was then desired than their remedies ? Is it 
possible to survey this prosperous country and to assert that 
they have been delayed ? Trade flouiishes on our wharves, 
although it droops in speeches. Manufactures have riseii under 
the shade of protecting duties from almost nothing to such a 
state, that we are even told we can depend on the domestick sup- 
ply, if the foreign should cease. The fisheries, which we found 
in decline, are in the most vigorous growth : the whale fishery, 
■which our allies would have transferred to Dunkirk, now ex- 
tends over the whole ocean. To that hardy race of men the 
sea is but a park for hunting its monsters ; such is their 
activity, the deepest abysses scarcely afford to their prey a 



40 SPEECH ON 

hiding place. Look around, and see how the frontiei* circle 
widens, how the interiour improves, and let it be repeated, that 
the hopes of the people, when they formed this constitution, 
have been frustrated. 

But if it should happen, that our prejudices prove stronger 
than our senses ; if it should be believed, thut our farmers and 
merchants see their products and ships and wharves going to 
decay together, and they are ignorant or silent on their ovm 
ruin ; still the publick documents would not disclose so alurm- 
ing a state of our tiflairs. Our imports are obtcuned so plenti- 
fully and cheaply, that one of the avowed objects of the reso- 
lutions is, to make them scarcer and deai'er. Our exports, 
so far froin languishing, have increased two millions oi dollars 
in a yeai% Our navigation is found to be augmented beyond the 
iBost sanguine expectation. We hear of the vast advantage 
the English derived from the navigation act ; and we are asked 
in a tone of accusation, shall we sit still and do nothing ? Who 
is bold enough to say, congress has done nothing for the 
encourageinent of American navigation ? To counteract the 
navigation act, we have laid on British a higher tonnage than 
our own vessels pay in their ports ; and what is much more effec- 
tual, we have imposed ten per cent, on the duties, when the 
dutied articles are borne in foreign bottoms. We have also 
made the coasting trade a monopoly to our own vessels. Let 
those, who have asserted that this is nothing, compare facts 
with the regulations which produced them. 
Tonnage. Tons. 

American, 1789 297,468 E^^ess of American 

Foreign 265,1 16 tonnage. 

32,352 

American, 1790 347,663 

Foreign 258,916 

88,747 

American, 1791 363,810 

Foreign 240,799 

123,011 

American, 1792 415,330 

Foi-eign 244,263 

171,067 



MR. MADISON'S RESOLUTIONS. 41 

Is not this increase of American shipping- rapid enough ? 
Many persons say it is too rapid, and attracts too much capital 
for the circumstances of the country. I cannot readily per- 
suade myself to think so valuable a branch of employment 
thrives too fast. But a steady and sure encouragement is more 
to be relied on than violent methods of forcing its growth. It 
is not clear, that the quantity of our navigation, including our 
coasting and fishmg vessels,. is less in proportion to those of 
that nation : in that computation we shall probably find, tliat 
we arc already more^a navigating people than the English. 

As this is a growing country, we have the most stable ground 
of dependence on the corresponding growth of our navigPttion: 
and that the increasing demand for shipping will ratlier fall to 
the share of Americans than foreigners, is not to be denied. 
We did expect this from the nature of our own laws ; we have 
been confirmed in it by experience ; and we kiiow that an 
American bottom is actually preferred to a foreign one. In 
cases where one partner is an American, and another a foreigner, 
the ship is made an American bottom. A fact of this kind 
overthrows a whole theory of reasoning on the necessity of 
further restrictions. It shows, that the work of restriction is 
already done. 

If Ave take the aggregate view of our commercial interests, 
we shall find nmch more occasion for satisfaction, and even 
exultation, than complaint, and none for despondence. It v/ould 
be too bold to say, that our condition is so eligible there is 
nothing to be wished. Ncithei' the order of nature, nor the 
allotments of Providence, afford perfect content ; and it would 
be absurd to expect in our politicks what is denied in the lav/s 
of our being. The nations, with whom we have intercourse, 
have, Avithout exception, more or less restricted their com- 
merce. They have framed their regulations to suit their real 
or fancied interests. The code of France is as full of restric- 
tions as that of England. We have regulations of our own ; 
and they are unlike those of any other country. Inasmuch as 
the interest and circumstances of nations vary so essentially, 
the project of an exact reciprocity on our part is a yision. 



43 SPEECH ON 

AVhat we desire is, to li?.vc, not an exact reciprocity, but an 
intercourse of mutual benefit and convenience. 

It has scarcely been so much as insinuated, that the change 
contemplated Avill be a profitable one ; that it will enable us to 
sell dearer and to buy cheaper : on the contrary, we are invited 
to submit to the hazards and losses of a conflict with our cus- 
tomers ; to engage in a contest of self-denial. For what — to 
obtain better markets ? No svich thing ; but to shut up forever, 
if possible, the best market we have for our exports, and to 
confine ourselves to the dearest and scarcest markets for oxjlv 
imports. And this is to be done for the benefit of trade, or, 
as it is sometimes more correctly said, for the benefit of 
France. This language is not a little inconsistent and strange 
from those, who recommend a non-importation agreement, 
and who think we should even renounce the sea and devote 
ourselves to agriculture. Thus, to make our trade more free, 
it is to be embarrassed, and violently shifted from one country 
to another, not according to the interest of the merchants, but 
the visionary theories and capricious rashness of the legislators. 
To naake trade better, it is to be made nothing. 

So far as commerce and navigation are regarded, the pre- 
tences for this contest are confined to two. We are not allowed 
to carry manufactured articles to Great Britain, nor any pro- 
ducts, except of our own growth ; and we are not permitted to 
go, with our own vessels, to the West-Indies. The former, 
■which is a provision of the navigation act, is of little importance 
to our interests, as our trade is chiefly a direct one, our shipping 
not being equal to the carrying for other nations ; and our 
manufactured articles are not furnished in quantities for ex- 
portation, and, if they were, Great Britain would not be a cus- 
tomer. So far, therefore, the restriction is rather nominal 
than real. 

The exclusion of oiu" vessels from the West-Indies is of 
more importance. When we propose to make an effort to 
force a privilege from Great Britain, Avhich she is loath to 
yield to us, it is necessary to compare the value of the object 
with the effort, and, above all, to calculate very warily the 



MR. MADISON'S RESOLUTIONS. 43 

probability of success. A trivial thing deserves not a great 
exertion ; much less ought we to stake a very great good ii> 
possession for a slight chance of a less good. The carriage 
of one half the exports and imports to and from the British 
West-Indies, is the object to be contended for. Our whole 
exports to Great Britain are to be hazarded. We sell on terms 
of privilege and positive favour, as it has been abundantly 
shewn, near seven millions to the dominions of Great Britain. 
We are to risk the privilege in this great amount — for what ? 
For the freight only of one half the British West-India trade 
with the United States. It belongs to commercial men to 
calculate the entire value of the freight alluded to. But it 
cannot bear much proportion to the amount of seven millions. 
Besides, if we are denied the privilege of cariying our articles 
in our vessels to the islands, we are on a footing of privilege 
in the sale of them. We have one privilege, if not two. It 
is readily admitted, that it is a desirable thing, to have our 
vessels allowed to go to the English islands ; but the value of 
the object has its limits, and we go unquestionably beyond 
them, when we throw our whole exports into confusion, and 
run the risk of losing our best markets, for the sake of forcing 
a permission to carry our own products to one of those mar- 
kets : in which, too, it should be noticed, we sell much less 
than we do to Great Britain herself. If to this we add, that 
the success of the contest is grounded on the sanguine and 
passionate hypothesis of our being able to starve the islanders, 
which, on trial, may prove false, and which our being in- 
volved in the war would overthrow at once, we may conclude, 
without going further into the discussion, that prudence for- 
bids our engaging in the hazards of a commercial war ; that 
great things should not be staked against such as are of much 
less value ; that what we possess should not be I'isked for what 
we desire, without great odds in our favour ; still less, if the 
chance is infinitely against us. 

If these considerations should fail of their effect, it will be 
necessary to go into an examination of the tendency of the 



44 SPEECH ON 

system of discrimination to redress and avenge all our wrongs, 
and to realize all our hopes. 

It has been avowed, that we are to look to France, not to 
England, for advantages in trade ; we are to shew our spirit, 
and to manifest towards those who are called enemies the 
spirit of enmity, and towai-ds those we call fi'iends something 
more than passive good will. We are to take active measures 
to force trade out of its accustomed channels, and to shift it by- 
such means fi-om England to France. The care of the con- 
cerns of the French manufacturers may be left perhaps as 
well in the hands of the convention, as to be usurped into our 
own. However our zeal might engage us to interpose, our 
duty to our oAvn immediate constituents demands all our atten- 
tion. To volunteer it, in order to excite competition in one 
foreign nation to supplant another, is a very strange business ; 
and to do it, as it has been irresistibly proved it will happen, at 
the charge and cost of our own citizens, is a thing equally 
beyond all justification and all example. What is it but to 
tax our own people for a time, perhaps for a long time, in 
order that the French may at last sell as cheap as the English ; 
cheaper they cannot, nor is it so mvich as pretended. The 
tax will be a loss to us, and the fancied tendency of it not a 
gain to this country in the event, but to France. We shall 
pay more for a time, and in the end pay no less ; for no object 
but that one nation may receive our money, instead of the 
other. If this is generous towards France, it is not just to 
America. It is sacrificing Avhat we owe to our constituents to 
Avhat we pretend to feel towards striuigers. Wc have indeed 
heard a very ardent profession of gratitude to that nation, and 
infinite reliance seems to be placed on her readiness to sacrifice 
her interest to ours. The story of this generous strife should 
be left to ornament fiction. This is not the form nor the 
occasion to discharge our obligations of any sort to any foreign 
nation: it concerns not our feelings but our interests; yet the 
debate has often soared high above the smoke of business into 
the epick region. The market for tobacco, tar, turpentiile, 



am, MADISON'S RESOLUTIONS. 45 

Mid pitch has become matter of sentiment, and given occasion 
alternately to rouse our courage and our gratitude. 

If, instead of -hexameters, we prefer discussing our relation 
to foreign nations in the common language, we shall not find, 
that we are bound by treaty to establish a preference in favour 
of the French. The treaty is founded on a professed reciprocity, 
favour for favour. Why is the principle of treaty or no treaty 
made so essential, when the favour we are going to give is an 
act of supererogation ? It is not expected by one of the nations 
in treaty : for Holland has declared in her treaty with us, that 
such preferences are the fruitful source of animosity, embar- 
rassment and war. The French have set no such example. 
They discriminate, in their late navigation act, not as we arc 
exhorted to do, between nations in treaty and not in treaty, but 
between nations at Avar and not at Avar with them ; so that, 
Avhen peace takes place, England Avill stand by that act on the 
same ground Avith ourselves. If Ave expect by giving favour 
to get faA'our in return, it is improper to make a law. The 
business belongs to the executive, in Avhose hands the consti- 
tution has placed the pOAver of dealing Avith foreign nations. 
It is singular to negociate legislatively ; to make by a laAV half 
k bargain, expecting a French laAV would make the other. 
The footing of treaty or no treaty is different from the ground 
taken by the mover himself in supporting his system. He has 
said favour for favour Avas principle : nations not in treaty grant 
faA'ours, those in treaty restrict our trade. Yet the principle 
of discriminating in favour of nations in treaty, is not only 
inconsistent with the declared doctrine of the mover and Avith 
facts, but it is inconsistent Avith itself. Nations not in treaty 
are so A^ery unequally operated upon by the resolutions, it is 
absurd to refer them to one principle. Spain and Portugal 
have no treaties Avith us, and are not disposed to have : Spain 
Avould not accede to the treaty of commerce betAveen us and 
France, though she Avas invited : Portugal would not sign a 
treaty after it had been discussed and signed on our part. 
They have fcAv ships or manufactures, and do not feed their 
colonies from us : of course there is little for the discrimina- 



46 SPEECH ON 

don to operate upon. I'lie operation on nations in treaty is 
equally a satire on the principle of disci'imination. In Sweden, 
with whom we have a treaty, duties rise higher if borne in our 
bottoms, than in her own France does the like, in respect to 
tobacco, two and a half livres the quintal, which in effect pro- 
hibits our vessels to freight tobacco. The mover has, some- 
what unluckily, proposed to except from this system nations 
having no navigation acts ; in which case France would become 
the subject of vmfriendly discrimination, as the house have 
been informed since the debate began, that she has passed 
such acts. 

I MIGHT remark on the disposition of England to settle a 
commercial treaty, and the known desire of the marquis of 
Lansdown (then prime minister), in 1783, to form such a one 
on the most liberal principles. The history of that business, 
and the causes which prevented its conclusion, ought to be 
made known to the publick. The powers given to our minis- 
ters were revoked, and yet we hear, that no such disposition 
on the part of Great Britain has existed. The declaration of 
Mr. Pitt in parliament, in June, 1792, as well as the corres- 
pondence with Mr. Hammond, shew a desire to enter upon a 
negociation. The statement of the report of the secretary of 
state, on the privileges and restrictions of our commerce, that 
Great Britain has shewn no inclination to meddle with the 
subject, seems to be incorrect. 

The expected operation of the resolutions on different 
nations, is obvious, and I need not examine their supposed 
tendency to dispose Great Britain to settle an equitable treaty 
with this country ; but I ask, whether those, who hold such 
language towards that nation as I have heard, can be supposed 
to desire a treaty aiid friendly connexion. It seems to be 
thought a merit to express hatred : it is common and natural 
to desire to annoy and to crush those whom we hate, but it is 
somewhat singular to pretend, that the design of our anger is 
to embrace them. 

The tendency of angry measures to friendly dispositions and 
arrangements is not obvious. We affect to believe, that we 



MR. MADISON'S RESOLUTIONS. 4" 

shall quarrel ourselves into their good will : we shall beat a. 
new path to peace and friendship with Great Britain, one that 
is grown up with thorns, and lined with men-traps and spring- 
guns. It should be called the war path. 

To do justice to the subject, its promised advantages should 
be examined. Exciting the competition of the French is to 
prove an advantage to this country, by opening a new market 
with that nation. This is scarcely intelligible. If it means 
any thing, it is an admission, that their market is not a good 
one, or that they have not taken measures to favour our traffick 
with them. In either case our system is absurd. The balance 
of trade is against us, and in favour of England. But the reso- 
lutions can only aggravate that evil, for, by compelling us to 
buy dearer and sell cheaper, the balance will be turned still 
more against our country. Neither is the supply from France 
less the aliment of luxury, than that from England. There 
excess of credit is an evil, which we pretend to cure by check- 
ing the natural growth of our own capital, which is the un- 
doubted tendency of restraining trade : the progi-ess of the 
remedy is thus delayed. If we will trade, there must be 
capital. It is best to have it of our own ; if we have it not, we 
must depend on credit. Wealth springs from the profits of 
employment, and the best writers on the subject establish it, 
that employment is in proportion to the capital, that is to excite 
and reward it. To strike off credit, which is the substitute for 
capital, if it Avere possible to do it, would so far stop employ- 
ment. Fortunately it is not possible ; the activity of individual 
industry eludes the misjudging power of governments. The 
resolutions would, in effect, increase the demand for credit, 
as our products selling for less in a new market, and oui* 
imports being bought dearer, there would be less money and 
more need of it. Necessity would produce credit. Where 
the laws are strict, it will soon find its proper level ; the uses 
of credit will remain, and the evil will disappear. 

But the whole theory of balances of trade, of helping it by 
restraint, and protecting it by systems of prohibition and restric- 
tion against foreign nations, as well as the remedy for credit, are 



48 SPEECH ON 

among the exploded dogmas, which are equally refuted by the 
maxims of science and the authority of time. Many such topicks 
have been advanced, which >verc known to exist as prejudices, 
but were not expected as arguments. It seems to be believed, 
that the liberty of commerce is of some value. Although there 
ai'e restrictions on one side, there will be some liberty left : covm- 
ter restrictions, by diminishing that liberty, are in their nature 
aggravations and not remedies. We complain of the British 
restrictions as of a millstone : our own system Avill be another; 
so that ovir trade may hope to be situated between the upper 
and the nether millstone. 

On the whole, the resolutions contain two great principles : 
to controul trade by law, instead of leaving it to the better 
management of the merchants ; and the principle of a sumptu- 
ary law. To play the tyrant in the counting-house, and in 
directing the private expenses of our citizens, are employ- 
ments equally unworthy of discvission. 

Besides the advantages of the system, we have been called 
to another view of it, which seems to have less connection 
with the merits of the discussion. The acts of states, and the 
votes of "publick bodies, before the constitution was adopted, 
and the votes of the house since, have been stated as grounds 
for our assent to this measure at this time. To help our own 
trade, to repel any real or supposed attack upon it, cannot fail 
to prepossess the mind ; accordingly the first feelings of eveiy 
man yield to this proposition.- But the sober judgment on the 
tendency and reasonableness of the intermeddling of govern- 
ment often does, and probably ought still oftener to change our 
impressions. On a second view of the question, the man, Avho 
voted formerly for restrictions, may say, mvich has been done 
vinder the new constitution, and the good effects are yet mak- 
-ing progress. The necessity of measures of counter restriction 
will appear to him much less urgent, and their efficacy in the 
present tvu^bulent state of Europe infinitely less to be relied on. 
Far from being inconsistent in his conduct, consistency will 
forbid his pressing the expeiiment of his principle under cir- 
cumstances, which baffle the hopes of its success. But if so 



MR. MADISON'S RESOLUTIONS. 49 

much stress is laid on former opinions, in favour of this mea- 
sure, how happens it that there is so little on that, which now 
appears against it ? Not one merchant has spoken in favour of 
it in this body ; not one navigating or commercial state has 
patronised it. 

It is necessary to consider the dependence of the British 
West-India islands on our supplies. I admit, that they cannot 
draw them so well, and so cheap, from any other (tuarter ; but 
this is not the point. Are they physically dependent ? Can we 
starve them ; and may w'e reasonably expect, thus, to dictate to 
Great Britain a free admission of our vessels into her islands ? 
A few details will pi-ove the negative. Beef and pork sent from, 
the now United States to the British West-Indies, 1773, four- 
teen thousand nme hundred and ninety three barrels. In the 
war time, 1780, ditto from England, seventeen thousand seven 
hundred and ninety five : at the end of the war, 1783, six- 
teen thousand five hundred and twenty six. Ireland exported, 
on an average of seven years prior to 1777, two hundred and 
fifty thousand barrels. Sailed fish the English take in abund- 
ance, cUid prohibit i.s importation from us. Butter and cheese 
from England and Ireland are but lately banished even from, 
our markets. Exports from the now United States, 1773, 
horses two thousand seven hundred and sixty eight, cattle one 
thousand two hundred and three, sheep and hogs five thousand 
three hundred and twenty. Twenty two years prior to 1791, 
were exported from England to all ports, twenty nine thousand 
one hundred and thirty one horses. Ireland, on an average of 
seven years to 1777, exported four thousand and forty live 
stock, exclusive of hogs. The coast of Barbaiy, the Cape de 
Verds, &c. supply sheep and cattle. The islands, since the 
war, have increased their domestick supplies to a great degree. 

The now United States exported about one hundred and 
thirty thousand barrels of flour in 1773 to the West-Indies, 
Ireland by grazing less could supply wheat ; England herself 
usually exports it : she also imports from Archangel. Sicily 
and the Barbary states furnish wheat in abund^aice. W^e are 
deceived, when we fancy we can starve foreign countries. 



50 SPEECH ON 

France is reckoned to consume grain at the rate of sevcii 
bushels to each soul. Twenty six millions of souls, the quan- 
tity one hundred and eighty two millions of bushels. We 
export, to speak in round numbers, five or six millions of bush- 
els to all the different countries, which Ave supply ; a trifle 
this to their wants. Frugality is a greater resource. Instead 
of seven bushels, perhaps two could be saved by stinting the 
consumption of the food of cattle, or by the use of other food. 
Two bushels saved to each soul is fifty two millions of bushels, 
a quantity which the whole trading world, perhaps, could not 
furnish. Rice is said to be prohibited by Spain and Portugal 
to favour their own. Brasil could supply their rice instead of 
ours. 

Lumber ; I must warn you of the danger of despising 
Canada and Nova Scotia too much as rivals in the West-India 
supply, especially the former. The dependence the English 
had placed on them some years ago failed, partly because 
we entered into competition with them on very superiour 
terms, and partly because they were then in an infant state. 
They are now supposed to have considerably more than dou- 
bled their numbers since the peace ; and if, instead of having 
us for competitors for the supply as before, we should shut 
ourselves out by refusing our supplies, or being refused entry 
for them, those two colonies would rise from the ground : at 
least we should do more to bring it abovit than the English 
ministry have been able to do. In 1772, six hundred and 
seventy nine vessels, the actual tonnage of which was one 
hundred and twenty eight thousand, were employed in the 
West-India trade from Great Britain. They were supposed, 
on good ground, to be but half freighted to the islands : they 
might carry lumber, and the freight supposed to be deficient 
would be, at forty shillings sterling the ton, one hundred and 
twenty eight thousand pounds sterling. This sum would 
diminish the extra charge of carrying lumber to the islands. 
But is lumber to be had ? Yes, in Germany, and from the 
Baltick. It is even cheaper in Europe than our own. Besides 



MR. MADISON'S RESOLUTIONS. 51 

which, the hard woods used in mills are abundant in the 
islands. 

We are told they can sell their rum only to the United 
States. This concerns not their subsistence, but their profit. 
Examine it however. In 1773, the now United States took 
near three million gallons of rum. The remaining British 
colonies, Newfoundland and the African coast, have a con- 
siderable demand for this article. The demand of Ireland is 
veiy much on the increase. It was in 1763, five hundred and 
thirty thousand gallons; 1770, one million five hundred and 
fifty eight thousand gallons ; 1778, one million seven hundred 
and twenty nine thousand gallons. 

Thus we see, a total stoppage of the West-India trade 
Would not starve the islanders. It would aflfect us deeply ; 
we should lose the sale of our products, and, of course, not 
gain the carriage in our own vessels : the object of the contest 
would be no nearer our reach than before. Instead, however, 
of a total stoppage of the intercourse, it might happen, that, 
each nation prohibiting the vessels of the other, some third 
nation v/ould carry on the traffick in its own bottoms. While 
this measure would disarm our system, it would make it recoil 
upon ourselves. It would, in effect, operate chiefly to obstruct 
the sale of our products. If they should remain unsold, it 
would be so much dead loss ; or if the effect should be to raise 
the price on the consumers, it would either lessen the con- 
sumption, or raise up rivals in the supply. The contest, as it 
respects the West-India trade, is in every respect against us. 
To embarrass the supply from the United States, supposing 
ihe worst as it regards the planters, can do no more than 
enhance the price of sugar, coffee, and other products. The 
French islands are now in ruins, and the English planters 
have an increased price and double demand in consequence. 
While Great Britain confined the colony trade to herself, she 
gave to the colonists in return a monopoly in her consumption 
of West-India articles. The extra expense, arising fi'om the 
severest operation of our system, is already provided against 



52 SPEECH ON 

two fold : like other charges on the products of labour and 
capital, the burden will fall on the consumer. The luxurious 
and opulent consumer in Europe will not regard, and perhaps 
will not know, the increase of price nor the cause of it. The 
new settler, who clears his land and sells the lumber, will feel 
any convulsion in the market more sensibly, without being 
able to sustain it at all. It is a contest of wealth agidnst want 
of self-denial, between luxury and daily subsistence, that we 
provoke with so much confidence of success. A man of ex- 
perience in the West-India trade will see this contrast more 
strongly than it is possible to represent it. 

One of the excellences, for which the measure is recom- 
mended, is, that it \\ill affect our imports. What is offered as 
an argument is really an objection. Who will supply our 
wants ? Our own manufactures are growing, and it is a subject 
of greut satisfaction that they are. But it would be wrong to 
over-i'ate their capacity to clothe us. The same number of 
inhabitants re -^lure more and more, because wealth increases. 
Add to this the rapid growth of our numbers, and perhaps it 
will be correct to estimate the progress of nnanufacturers as 
only keeping pace with that of our increasing consumption 
and population. It follows, that we shall continue to demand 
in future to the amount of our present importation. It is not 
intended by the resolutions, that we shall import from Eng- 
land. Holland and the north of Europe do not furnish a suf- 
ficient variety, or sufl'icient quantity for our consumption. It 
is in vain to look to Spain, Portugal, and the Italian States. 
W^e are expected Id depend principally upon France : it is 
impossible to examine the ground of this dependence without 
adverting to the present situation of that country. It is a 
subject, upon whi:h I practise no disguise ; but I do not think 
it proper to introduce the politicks of France into this discus- 
sion. If others can find in the scenes that pass there, or in 
the principles and agents that direct them, proper subjects for 
amiable names, and sources of joy and hope in the prospect, I 
have nothing to say to it : it is an amusement, which it is not 



JNIR. MADISON'S RESOLUTIONS. 53 

my intention either to disturb or to partake of. I turn from 
these honours to examine the condition of France in respect to 
manufacturing;, capital, and industry. In this point of view, 
whatever political improvements may be hoped for, it cannot 
escape observation, that it presents only a wide field of waste 
and desolation. Capital, which used to be food for manufac- 
tures, is become their fuel. What once nourished industry 
now lights the fires of civil war, and quickens the progress of 
destruction. France is like a ship with a fine cargo burning 
to the water's edge ; she may be built upon anew, and freighted 
with another cargo, and it will be time enough, when that 
shall be, to depend on a part of it for our supply : at present, 
and for many years, she will not be so much a furnisher as a 
consumer. It is therefore obvious, that we shall import our 
supplies either directly or indirectly from Great Britain. Any 
obstruction to the importilion will raise the price which we, 
who consume, must bear. 

That part of the argument, which rests on the supposed 
distress of the British manufacturers, in conseciuence of the 
loss of our market, is in every view unfounded. They would 
not lose the market in fact, and if they did, we prodigiously 
exaggerate the importance of our consumption to the British 
workmen. Important it doubtless is, but a little attention will 
expose the extreme folly of the opinion, that they would be 
brought to our feet by a trial of our sell-denying spirit. Eng- 
land now supplants France in the important Levant trade, in 
the supply of manufactured goods to the East, and, in a great 
measure, to the West-Indies, to Spain, Portugal, and their 
dependencies. Her trade with Russia has, of late, vastly in- 
creased ; and she is treating for a trade with China : so that 
the new demands of English manufactures, consequent upon 
the depression of France as a rival, has amounted to much 
more than the whole American importation, which is not three 
millions. 

The ill effect of a system of restriction and prohibition in 
the West-Indies has been noticed already. The pi'ivileges 



54 SPEECH ON 

allowed to our exports to England may be withdrawn, and 
prohibitory or high duties imposed. 

The system before us is a mischief, that goes to the root of 
our prosperity. The merchants will suffer by the schemes 
and projects of a new theory. Great numbers were ruined by 
the convulsions of 1775. They arc an order of citizens de- 
sen'ing better of government, than to be involved in new con- 
fusions. It is wrong to make our trade wage war for our 
politicks. It is now scarcely said, that it is a thing to be 
sought for, but a weapon to fight with. To gain our approba- 
tion to the system, we are told it is to be gradually established. 
In that case, it will be unavailing. It should be begun with 
in all its strength, if we think of starving the islands. Drive 
them suddenly and by surprise to extremity, if you would 
dictate terms; but they will prepare against a long-expected 
failure of our supplies. 

Our nation will be tired of suffering loss and embarrassment 
for the French. The struggle, so painful to ovu'selves, so 
ineffectvial against England, will be renounced, and we shall 
sit doA\^n with shame and loss, with disappointed passions and 
aggravated compU.ints. War, which would then suit our feel- 
ings, would not suit our weakness. We might perhaps find 
some European power willing to make war on England, and we 
might be permitted by a strict alliance to partake the misery 
and the dependence of being a subaltern in the quarrel. The 
happiness of this situation seem.s to be in view, when the 
system before us is avowed to be the instrument of avenging 
our political resentments. Those, who affect to dread foi'eign 
influence, will do well to avoid a partnership in European 
jealousies and rivalships. Courting the friendship of the one, 
and provoking the hatred of the other, is dangerous to our 
real independence ; for it would compel America to throw 
herself into the arms of the one for protection against the 
other. Then foreign influence, pernicious as it is, would be 
sought for ; and though it should be shunned, it could not be 
resisted. The connections of trade form ties between indivi- 



MR. MADISON'S RESOLUTIONS. 55 

duals, and produce little controul over government. They are 
the ties of peace, and are neither corrupt nor corrupting. 

We have happily escaped from a state of the most imminent 
danger to our peace : a false step would lose all the security 
for its continuance, which we owe at this moment to the con- 
duct of the president. What is to save us from war ? Not our 
own power which inspires no terrour ; not the gentle and for- 
bearing spirit of the powers of Europe at this crisis ; not the 
weakness of England ; not her affection for this country, if we 
believe the assurances of gentlemen on the other side. What 
is it then ? It is the interest of Great Britain to have America 
for a customer, rather than an enemy : and it is precisely that 
interest, which gentlemen are so eager to take away, and to 
transfer to France. And what is stranger still, they say, they 
rely on that operation as a means of producing peace with the 
Indians and Algerines. The wounds, inflicted on Great Britain 
by our enmity, are expected to excite her to supplicate our 
friendship, djxd to appease us by soothing the animosity of our 
enemies. What is to produce effects so mystical, so opposite 
to nature, so much exceeding the efficacy of their pretended 
causes ? This wonder-working paper on the table is the weapon 
of terrour and destruction : like the writing on Belshazzer's 
wall, it is to strike parliaments and nations with dismay : it 
is to be stronger than fleets against pirates, or than armies 
against Indians. After the examination it has undergone, 
credulity itself will laugh at these pretensions. 

We pretend to expect, not by the force of our restrictions, 
but by the mei'e shew of our spirit, to level all the fences, that 
liave guarded for ages the monopoly of the colony trade. The 
repeal of the navigation act of England, which is cherished aS 
the palladium of her safety, which time has rendered venera- 
ble, and prosperity endeared to her people, is to be extorted, 
from her fears of a weaker nation. It is not to be yielded 
freely, but violently torn from her; and yet the idea of a 
Struggle to prevent indignity and loss, is considered as a 
chimera too ridiculous for sober refutation. She will not dare, 



56 SPEECH ON 

say they, to resent it ; and gentlemen have pledged themselves 
for the success of the attempt : what is treated as a phantom 
is vouched by fact. Her navigation act is known to have 
caused an immediate contest with the Dutch, and four des- 
perate sea fights ensued, in consequence, the very year of its 
passage. 

How far it is an act of aggression, for a neutral nation to 
assist the supplies of one neighbour, and to annoy and distress 
another, at the crisis of a contest between the two, which strains 
their strength to the utmost, is a ciuestion, which we might 
not agree in deciding ; but the tendency of such unseasonable 
partiality to exasperate the spirit of hostility against the in- 
truder cannot be doubted. The language of the P'rench 
government would not sooth this spiiit. It proposes, on the 
sole condition of a political connection, to extend to us a part 
of their West-India commerce. The coincidence of our mea- 
sures with their invitation, however singular, needs no com- 
ment. Of all men those are least consistent, who believe in 
the efficacy of the regulations, and yet affect to ridicule their 
hostile tendency. In the commercial conflict, say they, we 
shall surely prevail and effectually hvunble Great Britain. 

In open war we are the weaker, and shall be brought into 
danger, if not to ruin. It depends, therefore, according to 
their own I'easoning, on Great Britain herself, whether she 
will persist in a struggle, which will disgrace and weaken her, 
or turn it into a Avar, which will throw the shame and ruin 
upon her antagonist. The topicks, which furnish arguments 
to shew the danger to ovu' peace from the resolutions, are too 
fruitful to be exhausted. But without pursuing them further, 
the experience of mankind has shewn, that commercial rival- 
ships, which spring from mutual efforts for monopoly, have 
kindled more wars, and wasted the earth more, than the spirit 
of conquest. 

I HOPE we .shall shew by our vote, that we deem it better 
policy to feed nations than to starve them, and that we shall 
never be so unwise as to put our good customers into a situa- 



MR. MADISON'S RESOLUTIONS. 57 

rion to be forced to make every exertion to do without us. By 
cherishing the arts of peace, we shall acquire, and we are 
actually acquiring the strength and resources for a war. In- 
stead of seeking treaties, we ought to shun them ; for the later 
they shall be formed, the better will be the terms : we shall 
have more to give, and more to withhold. We have not yet 
taken our proper rank, nor acquired that consideration, which 
will not be refused us, if we persist in prudent and pacifick 
counsels, if we give time for our strength to mature itself. 
Though America is rising with a giant's strength, its bones 
are yet but cartilages. By delaying the beginning of a conflict, 
we insure the victory. 

By voting out the resolutions, we shall shew to our own 
citizens, and foreign nations, that our prudence has prevailed 
over our prejudices, that we prefer our interests to our resent- 
ments. Let us assert a genuine independence of spirit : we 
shall be false to our duty and feelings as Americans, if we 
basely descend to a servile dependence on France or Great 
Britain. 



[ 58 ] 



SPEECH 

IK THE HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES OF THE UNITED STATES, 
IN SUPPORT OF THE FOLLOWING MOTION : 

Resolved, That it is expedient to pass the laws necessary to carry 
into effect the treaty lately concluded between the United States 
and the king- of Great Britain. 

DELIVERED APRIL 28, 1796. 

A ENTERTAIN the hope, perhaps a rash one, that my strength 
will hold me out to speak a few mmutes. 

In my judgment, a right decision will depend more on the 
temper and manner, with Avhich we may prevail upon our- 
selves to contemplate the subject, than upon the developement 
of any profovmd political principles, or any remarkable skill in 
the application of them. If we could succeed to neutralize 
our inclinations, we should find less difficulty than we have to 
apprehend in surmounting all our objections. 

The suggestion, a few days ago, that the house manifested 
symptoms of heat and irritation, was made and retorted as if 
the charge ought to create surprise, and would convey reproach. 
Let us be more just to ourselves and to the occasion. Let 
us not affect to deny the existence and the intrusion of some 
portion of prejudice and feeling into the debate, when, from 
the very structure of our nature, we ought to anticipate the 
circumstance as a probability, and Avhen we are admonish- 
ed by the evidence of ovir senses that it is a fact. How can we 
make professions for ourselves, and offer fcxhortations to the 
house, that no influence should be felt but that of duty, and no 
guide respected but that of the understanding, while the peal 
to rally every passion of man is continually ringing in our 
cars. Our understandings have been addressed, it is true, 
and with ability and effect ; but, I demand, has any corner of 
the heart been left unexplored ? It has been ransacked to find 



SPEECH ON THE BRITISH TREATY. 59 

auxiliary arguments ; and, when that attempt failed, to awaken 
the sensibility, that Avould require none. Every prejudice 
and feeling has been summoned to listen to some peculiar 
style of address ; and yet we seem to believe, and to consider 
a doubt as an affront, that we are strangers to any influence 
but that of unbiassed reason. 

It would be strange, that a subject, which has roused in 
turn all the passions of the country, should be discussed 
without the interference of any of our own. We are men, 
and therefore not exempt from those passions : as citizens 
and representatives, we feel the interest that must excite 
them. The hazard of great interests cannot fail to agitate 
strong passions : w^e are not disinterested ; it is impossible 
we should be dispassionate. The warmth of such feelings 
may becloud the judgment, and, for a time, pervert the 
understanding. But the publick sensibility, and our own, 
has sharpened the spirit of inquiry, and given an animation 
to the debate. The publick attention has been quickened 
to mark the progress of the discussion, and its judgment, 
often hasty and erroneous on first impressions, has become 
solid and enlightened at last. Our result will, I hope, on 
that account, be the safer and more mature, as well as more 
accordant with that of the nation. The only constant agents 
in political affairs are the passions of men. Shall we com- 
plain of our nature ; shall we say that man ought to have 
been made otherwise. It is right already, because he, from 
whom we derive our nature, ordained it so ; and because, 
thus made and thus acting, the cause of truth and the publick 
good is the more surely promoted. 

But an attempt has been made to produce an influence 
of a nature more stubborn, and more unfriendly to truth. It 
is very unfairly pretended, that the constitutional right of 
this house is at stake, and to be asserted and preserved only 
by a vote in the negative. We hear it said, that this is a 
struggle for liberty, a manly resistance against the design 
to nullify this assembly, and to make it a cypher in the 



60 SPEECH ON THE 

government : that the president and senate, the numerous 
meetings in the cities, and the influence of the general 
alarm of the country, are the agents and instruments of a 
scheme of coercion and terrour, to force the treaty down 
our throats, though we loath it, and in spite of the clearest 
convictions of duty and conscience. 

It is necessary to pause here, and inquire, whether sug- 
gestions of this kind be not unfair in their very texture and 
fabrick, and pernicious in all their influences. They oppose 
an obstacle in the path of inquiry, not simply discouraging, 
but absolutely insurmountable. They will not yield to argu- 
ment ; for, as they were not reasoned up, they cannot be 
reasoned down. They are higher than a Chinese wall in 
truth's way, and built of materials that are indestructible. 
While this remains, it is vain to say to this mountain, be 
thou cast into the sea. For I ask of the men of knowledge 
of the world, whether they would not hold him for a block- 
head, that should hope to prevail in an argument, whose 
scope and object it is to mortify the self-love of the expected 
proselyte ? I ask further, when such attempts have been 
made, have they not failed of success ? The indignant heart 
repels a conviction, that is believed to debase it. 

The self-love of an individual is not warmer in its sense, 
nor more constant in its action, than what is called in French 
I'esprit du corps, or the self-love of an assembly ; that jealous 
affection which a body of men is always found to bear towards 
its own prerogatives and power. I will not condemn this pas- 
sion. Why should we urge an unmeaning censure, or yield 
to groundless fears that truth and duty will be abandoned, 
because men in a publick assembly are still men, and feel 
that esprit du corps which is one of the laws of their nature ? 
Still less should we despond or complain, if we reflect, that 
this very spirit is a guardian instinct that watches over the 
life of this assembly. It cherishes the principle of self- 
preservation, and without its existence, and its existence 
with all the strength we see it possess, the privileges of the 



BRITISH TREATY. 61 

representatives of the people, and, mediately, the liberty of 
the people would not be guarded, as they are, with a vigi- 
lance that never sleeps, and an unrelaxing constancy and 
courage. 

If the consequences most unfairly attributed to the vote 
in the affirmative were not chimerical, and worse, for they 
are deceptive, I should think it a reproach to be found even 
moderate in my zeal to assert the constitutional powers of 
this assembly; and whenever they shall be in real danger, 
the present occasion affords proof, that there will be no want 
of advocates and champions. 

Indeed so prompt are these feelings, and, when once 
roused, so difficult to pacify, that, if we could prove the 
alarm was groundless, the prejudice against the appropria- 
tions may remain on the mind, and it may even pass for an 
act of prudence and duty to negative a measure, which was 
lately believed by ourselves, and may hereafter be miscon- 
ceived by others, to encroach upon the powers of the house. 
Principles that bear a remote affinity with usurpation on 
those powers will be rejected, not merely as errours, but as 
wrongs. Our sensibility will shrink from a post, where it 
is possible it may be wounded, and be inflamed by the slight- 
est suspicion of an assault. 

While these prepossessions remain, all argument is use- 
less : it may be heard with the ceremony of attention, and 
lavish its own resources, and the patience it wearies to no 
manner of purpose. The ears may be open, but the mind 
will remain locked up, and every pass to the understanding- 
guarded. Unless therefore this jealous and repulsive fear 
for the rights of the house can be allayed, I will not ask a 
hearing. 

I CANNOT press this topick too far ; I cannot address my- 
self with too much emphasis to the magnanimity and can- 
dour of those who sit here, to suspect their own feelings, 
and, while they do, to examine the grounds of their alarm. 
I repeat it, we must conquer our persuasion, that this body 



62 SPEECH ON THE 

has an interest in one side of the question more than the 
other, before we attempt to surmount our objections. On 
most subjects, and solemn ones too, perhaps in the most 
solemn of all, we form our creed more from inclination 
than evidence. 

Let me expostulate with gentlemen to admit, if it be only 
by way of supposition, and for a moment, that it is barely 
possible they have yielded too suddenly to their alarms for 
the powers of this house ; that the addresses, which have 
been made with such variety of forms, and with so great 
dexterity in some of them, to all that is prejudice and passion 
in the heart, are either the effects or the instruments of 
artifice and deception, and then let them see the subject 
once more in its singleness and simplicity. 

It will be impossible, on taking a fair review of the sub- 
ject, to justify the passionate appeals that have been made 
to us, to struggle for our liberties and rights, and the solemn 
exhortations to reject the proposition, said to be concealed 
in that on your table, to surrender them for ever. In spite, 
of this mock solemnity, I demand, if the house will not con- 
cur in the measure to execute the treaty, what other cours§ 
shall we take ? How many ways of proceeding lie open be- 
fore us ? 

In the nature of things, there are but three : we are either 
to make the treaty, to observe it, or break it. It would be 
absurd to say, we will do neither. If I may I'epeat a phrase 
already so much abused, we are under coercion to do one of 
them ; and we have no power, by the exercise of our discre- 
tion, to prevent the consequences of a choice. 

By refusing to act, we choose : the treaty will be broken 
and fall to the ground. Where is the fitness then of reply- 
ing to those who urge upon the house the topicks of duty 
and policy, that they attempt to force the treaty down, and 
to compel this assembly to renounce its discretion, and to 
degrade itself to the rank of a blind and passive instrument 
in the hands of the treaty-making power. In case we reject 



BRITISH TREATY 6S 

the appropriation, we do not secure any greater liberty of 
action, we gain no safer shelter than before from the conse- 
quences of the decision. Indeed they are not to be evaded- 
It. is neither just nor manly to complain, that the treaty- 
making power has produced this coercion to act: it is not 
the art or the despotism of that power, it is the nature of 
things, that compels. Shall we, dreading to become the 
blind instruments of power, yield ourselves the blinder dupes 
of mere sounds of imposture ? Yet that word, that empty 
word, coercion, has given scope to an eloquence, that one 
would imagine could not be tired, and did not choose to be 
quieted. 

Let us examine still more in detail the alternatives that 
are before us, and we shall scarcely fail to see in still stronger 
lights the futility of our apprehensions for the power and 
liberty of the house. 

If, as some have suggested, the thing, called a treaty,, 
is incomplete, if it has no binding force or obligation, the 
first question is, will this house complete the instrument, and, 
by concurring, impart to it that force which it wants. 

The doctrine has been avowed, that the treaty, though 
formally ratified by the executive power of both nations, 
though published as a law for our own by the president's 
proclamation, is still a mere proposition submitted to this 
assembly, no way distinguishable in point of authority or 
obligation from a motion for leave to bring in a bill, or 
any other original act of ordinary legislation. This doctrine, 
so novel in our country, yet so dear to many precisely for 
the reason, that in the contention for power victory is always 
dear, is obviously repugnant to the very terms as well as 
the fair interpretation of our own resolution. (Mr. Blount's.) 
We declare, that the treaty-making power is exclusively 
vested in the president and senate, and not in this house. 
Need I say, that we fly in the face of that resolution, when 
yve pretend, that the acts of that power are not valid, until 
we have concurred in them. It would be nonsense, or worse. 



64 SPKECH ON THE 

to use the language of the most glaring contradiction, and 
to claim a share in a power, which we at the same time dis- 
claim, as exclusively vested in other departments. What 
can be more strange than to say, that the compacts of the 
president and senate with foreign nations are treaties, without 
our agency, and yet that those compacts want all power and 
obligation, until they are sanctioned by our concurrence. It is 
not my design in this place, if at all, to go into the discussion 
of this part of the subject. I will, at least for the present, 
take it for granted, that this monstrous opinion stands in little 
need of remark, and, if it does, lies almost out of the reach 
of refutation. 

But, say those who hide the absurdity under the cover of 
ambiguous phrases, have we no discretion ? and if we have, 
are we not to make use of it in judging of the expediency or 
inexpediency of the treaty ? Our resolution claims that 
privilege, and we cannot surrender it without equal inconsist- 
ency and breach of duty. 

If there be any inconsistency in this case, it lies not in 
making the appropriations for the treaty, but in the resolu- 
tion itself. Let us examine it more nearly. A treaty is a 
bargain between nations, binding in good faith : and what 
makes a bargain ? The assent of the contracting parties. 
We allow, that the treaty power is not in this house ; this 
liouse has no share in contracting, and is not a party : of 
consequence the president and senate alone may make a 
treaty that is binding in good faith. We claim, however, 
say the gentlemen, a right to judge of the expediency of 
treaties ; that is the constitutional province of our discretion. 
Be it so. What follows ? Treaties, when adjudged by us to 
be inexpedient, fall to the ground, and the publick faith is 
not hurt. This, incredible and extravagant as it may seem, 
is asserted. The amount of it, in plainer language, is this, 
the president and senate are to make national bargains, and 
this house has nothing to do in making them. But bad bar- 
gains do not bind this house, and of inevitable consequence. 



BRITISH TREATY. 6j 

do not bind the nation. When a national bargain, called a 
treaty, is made, its binding force does not depend on the 
making, but upon our opinion that it is good. As our 
opinion on the matter can be known and declared oniy by 
ourselves, when sitting in our legislative capacity, the treaty, 
though ratified, and, as we choose to term it, made, is hung 
up in suspense, till our sense is ascertained. We condemn 
the bargain, and it falls, though, as we say, our f ith does 
not. We approve a bargain as expedient, and it stands firm, 
and binds the nation. Yet, even in this hitter case, its force 
is plain iy not derived from the ratification by the treaty- 
making power, but from our approbation. Who will trace 
these inferences, and pretend, that we have no share, accord- 
ing to the argument, in the treaty-making power ? These 
opinions, nevertheless, have been advocated- with infinite 
zeal and perseverance. Is it possible that any man can be 
hardy enough to avow them, and their ridiculous conse- 
quences ? 

Let me hasten to suppose the treaty is considered as al- 
ready made, and then the alternative is fairly present to the 
mind, whether he will observe the treaty, or break it. This, 
in fact, is the naked question. 

If we choose to observe it with good faith, our course is 
obvious. W^hatever is stipulated to be done by the nation, 
must be complied with. Our agency f it should be requi- 
site, cannot be properly refused. And I do not see why it is 
not as obligatory a rule of conduct for the legislature as for 
the courts of law 

I CANNOT lose this opportunity to remark, that the coer- 
cion, so much dreaded and declaimed against, appears at 
length to be no mqre than the authority of principles, the 
despotism of duty. Gentlemen complain we are forced to 
act in this way ; we are forced to svv'allow the treaty. It is 
very true, unless we claim the liberty of abuse, the right to 
act as we ought not. There is but one right way open for 
us : the laws of morality and good faith have fenced up 

9 



66 SPEECH ON THE 

eVei'y other. What sort of liberty is that, ^vhlch ^ve pre- 
sume to exercise against the authority of those laws ? It is 
for tyrants to complain, that principles are restraints, and 
that they have no liberty, so long as their despotism has lim- 
its. These principles will be unfolded by examining the 
remaining question : 

Shall we break the 'fREAfr ? 

Thk treaty is bad, fatally bad, is the cry. It sacrifices the 
interest, the honour, the independence of the United States, 
and the faith of our engagements to France. If we listen to 
the clamour of party intemperance, the evils are of a nvim- 
ber not to be counted, and of a nature not to be borne, even 
in idea. The language of passion and exaggeration may si- 
lence that of sober reason in other places, it has not done it 
here. The question here is, whether the treaty be really so 
very fatal, as to oblige the nation to break its faith. I admit 
that such a treaty ought not to be executed. I admit that self- 
preservation is the first law of society, as well as of individ- 
uals. It would perhaps be deemed an abuse of terms to call 
that a treaty, which violates such a principle. I wave also, 
for the present, any inquiry, what departments shall repre- 
sent the nation, and annul the stipulations of a treaty. I 
content myself with pursuing the inquiry, whether the na- 
ture of the compact be such as to justify our refusal to carry 
it into eflect. A treaty is the promise of a nation. Now, 
promises do not always bind him that makes them. 

But I lay down two rules, which ought to guide us in this 
case. The treaty must appear to be bad not merely in the 
petty details, but in its character, principle, and mass : and 
in the next place, this ought to be ascertained by tbe decided 
and general concurrence of the enlightened publick. I con- 
fess there seems to me something very like ridicule throv/n 
over the debate by the discussion of the articles in detail. 

The un'decided point is, shall we break our faith ? And 
while our country, aixl enlightened Europe, await the issue 



BRITISH TREATY. 67 

with more than curiosity, we are employed to gather, piece- 
meal, and article by aiticle, from the instrument, a justification 
for the deed by trivial calculations of commercial profit and 
loss. This is little worthy of the subject, of this body, or of 
the nation. If the treaty is bad, it will appear to be so in its 
mass. Evil to a fatal extreme, if that be its tendency, requires 
no proof: it brings it. Extremes speak for themselves, and 
make their own law. What if the direct voyage of American 
ships to Jamaica with horses or lumber might net one or two 
per cent, more than the present trade to Surinam, woukl the 
proof of the fact avail any thing in so grave a question as the 
violation of the publick engagements ? 

It is in vain to allege, that our faith plighted to France is 
violated by this new treaty. Ovu' prior treaties are expressly 
saved from the operation of the British treaty. And what do 
those mean, who say, that our honour was forfeited by treating 
at all, and especially by such a treaty ? Justice, the laAVS, and 
practice of nations, a just regard for peace as a duty to man- 
kind, and the known wish of our citizens, as well as that self- 
respect which required it of the nation to act with dignity and 
moderation, all these forbad an appeal to arms before we had 
tried the effect of negociation. The honour of the United 
States was saved, not forfeited by treating. The treaty itself, 
by its stipulations for the posts, for indemnity, and for a due 
observation of our neutral rights, has justly raised the charac- 
ter of the nation. Never did the name of America appear in 
Europe with more lustre, than upon the event of ratifying 
this instrument. The fact is of a nature to overcome all con- 
tradiction. 

But the independence of the countiy — we are colonists 
again. This is the cry of the very men who tell us, that 
France will resent our exercise of the rights of an indepen- 
dent nation to adjust our wrongs with an aggressor, without 
giving her the opportunity to say, those wrongs shall subsist 
and shall not be adjusted. This is an admirable specimen of 
independence. The treaty with Great Britain, it cannot be 
denied, is unfavourable to this strange sort of independence. 



63 SPEEcrt ON THE 

Few men of any reputation for sense among those who say 
the treaty is bad, will put that reputation so much at hazard 
as to pretend, that it is so extremely bad as to warrant and 
require a violation of the publick faith. The proper ground 
of the controversy, therefore, is really unoccupied by the oppo- 
sers of the treaty ; as the very hinge of the debate is on the 
point, not of its being good or otherwise, but whether ii is 
intolerably and fatally pernicious. If loose and ignorant de- 
claimers have any where asserted the latter idea, it is too 
extravagant, and too solidly refuted, to be repeated here. 
Instead of any attempt to expose it still further, I will say, 
and I appeal with confidence to the candour of many opposers 
to the treaty to acknowledge, that, if it had been -permitted to 
go into operation silently, like our other treaties, so little altera- 
tion of any sort would be made by it in the great mass of our 
commercial and agricultural concerns, that it would not be 
generally discovered by its effects to be in force, during the 
term for which it was contracted. I place considerable reli- 
ance on the weight men of candour will give to this remark, 
because I believe it to be true, and little short of imdeniable. 
When the panick dread of the treaty shall cease, as it certain- 
ly must, it will be seen through another inedium. Those 
who shall make search into the articles for the cause of their 
alarms, will be so far from finding stipulations that will operate 
fatally, they will discover few of them that will have any last- 
ing operation at all. Those which relate to the disputes 
beti\ cen the two coiuitries will spend their force upon the sub- 
jects in dispute, and extinguish them. The commercial articles 
are more of a nature to confirm the existing state of things, 
than to change it. The treaty alarm was purely an address to 
the imagination and prejudices of the citizens, and not on that 
accovmt the less formidable. Objections that proceed upon 
crrovu' in fact or calculation, may be traced and exposed ; but 
such as are drawn from the imagination, or addressed to it, 
elude definition, and return to domineer over the mind, after 
having been banished from it by truth. 



BRITISH TREATY. 69 

I WILL not so far abuse the momentary strength that is lent 
to me by the zeal of the occasion, as to enlarge upon the com- 
mercial operation of the treaty. I proceed to the second pro- 
position, which I have stated as indispensably requisite to a 
refusal of the performance of a treaty : will the state of pub- 
lick opinion justify the deed ? 

No government, not even a despotism, will break its faith, 
without some pretext ; and it must be plausible, it must be 
such as will carry the publick opinion along with it. Reasons 
of policy, if not of morality, dissuade even Turkey and Algiers 
from breaches of treaty in mere wantonness of perfidy, in open 
contempt of the reproaches of their subjects. Surely a popu- 
lar government will not proceed more arbitrarily, as it is more 
free ; nor with less shame or scruple, in proportion as it has 
better morals. It will not proceed against the faith of treaties 
at all, unless the strong and decided sense of the nation shall 
pronounce, not simply that the treaty is not advantageous, but 
that it ought to be broken and annulled. 

Such a plain manifestation of the sense of the citizens is 
indispensably requisite ; first, because, if the popular apprehen- 
sions be not an infallible criterion of the disadvantages of the 
instrument, their ac(iuiescence in the operation of it is an irre- 
fragable proof, that the extreme case does not exist, which 
alone could justify our setting it aside. 

In the next place, this approving opinion of the citizens is 
I'eciuisite, as the best preventive of the ill consef;Uences of a 
measure always so delicate, and often so hazardous. Individu- 
als would, in that case at least, attempt to repel the opprobri- 
um that would be thrown upon congress by those who will 
charge it mth perfidy. They would give weight to the testi- 
mony of facts, and the authority of principles, on which the 
government would rest its vindication : and if war should ensue 
upon the violation, our citizens would not be divided from their 
government, nor the ardour of their courage be chilled by the 
consciousness of injustice, and the sense of humiliation, that 
sense which makes those despicable who know they are cles- 
pised. 



70 SPEECH ON THE 

I ADD a third reason, and with me it has a force that no words 
of mine can augment, that a government wantonly refusing to 
fulfil its engagement is the corrupter of its citizens. Will the 
laws continue to prevail in the heiirts of the people, when the 
respect that gives them eflicacy is withdrawn from the legisla- 
tors ? How shall we punish vice, while we practise it ? We 
have not force, and vain will be our reliance, when we have 
forfeited the resources of opinion. To weaken government, 
and to corrupt morals, are effects of a breach of faith not to be 
prevented ; and from effects they become causes, produced 
with augmented activity, more disorder and more corniption : 
order Avill be disturbed, and the life of the publick liberty 
shortened. 

And who, I would inquire, is hardy enough to pretend, that 
the publick voice demands tlie violation of the treaty ? The 
evidence of the sense of the great mass of the nation is often 
equivocal ; but when was it ever manifested with more energy 
and precision than at the present moment ? The voice of the 
people is raised against the measure of refusing the appropria- 
tions. If gentlemen should urge, nevertheless, that all this 
sound of alarm is a counterfeit expression of the sense of the 
publick, I will proceed to other proofs. Is the treaty ruinous 
to our commerce ? What has blinded the eyes of the merchants 
and traders ? Surely they are not enemies to trade, nor ignorant 
of their own interests. Their sense is not so liable to be 
mistaken as that of a nation, and they are almost unanimous. 
The articles stipulating the redress of our injuries by captures 
on the sea, are said to be delusive. By whom is tliis said ? 
The very men whose fortunes are staked upon tlie competency 
of that redress, say no such thing. They wait with anxious 
fear, lest you should annid that compact, on which all their 
hopes are rested. 

Thus avc offer proof, little short of absolute demonstration, 
that the voice of our country is raised not to sanction, but to 
deprecate, the non -performance of our engagements. It is 
not the nation, it is one, and but one, branch of llie govern- 



BRITISH TREATY. 71 

ment that proposes to reject them. With this aspect of things, 
to reject is an act of desperation. 

I SHALL be asked, why a treaty so good in some articles, 
and so harmless in others, has met with such unrelenting 
opposition ? and how the clamours against it from New-Hamp- 
shire to Georgia can be accounted for ? The apprehensions so 
extensively diffused, on its first publication, will be vouched 
as proof, that the treaty is bad, and that the people hold it in 
abhorrence. 

I AM not embarrassed to find the answer to this insinuation. 
Certainly a foresight of its pernicious operation could not have 
created all the fears that were felt or affected : the alarm 
spread faster than the publication of the treaty : there were 
more criticks than readers. Besides, as the subject v/as exa- 
mined, those feat's have subsided. The movements of passion 
are quicker than those of the understanding : we are to 
search for the causes of first impressions, not in the articles of 
this obnoxious and misrepresented instrument, but in the state 
of the publick feeling. 

The fervour of the revolution war had not entirely cooled, 
nor its controversies ceased, before the sensibility of our citi- 
zens was quickened with a tenfold vivacity by a new and 
extraordinary subject of irritation. One of the two great 
nations of Europe underwent a change, which has attracted 
all our wondei', and intei'ested all our sympathy. Whatever 
they did, the zeal of many went witli them, and often went to 
excess. These impressions met with much to inflame, and 
nothing to restrain them. In our newspapers, in our feasts, 
and some of our elections, enthusiasm was admitted a mei'it, 
a test of patriotism; and that made it contagious. In the 
opinion of party, we could not love or hate encugh. I dare 
say, in spite of all the obloc[uy it may provoke, we were ex- 
travagant in both. It is my right to avow, that passions so 
impetuous, enthusiasm so wild, could not subsist without dis- 
turbing the sober exercise cf reason, without putting at risk 
the peace and precious interests of our country. They Avcrc 
hazarded. I will not exhaust the little breath I have left, Ui 



72 ' SPEECH ON THE 

say how much, nor by whom, or by what means they were 
rescued from the sacrifice. Shall I be called upcn to offer my 
proofs ? I'hey are here, they are every where. No one has 
forgotten the proceedings of 1794. No one has forgotten the 
captures of our vessels, and the imminent danger of war. The 
nation thirsted not merely for reparation but vengeance. Suf- 
fering such Avrongs and agitated by such resentments, was it 
in the power of any words of comp^ict, or could any parchment 
with its seals prevail at once to tranr^uillize the people ? It was 
impossible. Trei.ties in England are seldom popular, iind 
least of all, when the stipulations of amity succeed to the 
bitterness of hatred. Even the best treaty, though nothing 
be refused, will choak resentment, but not satisfy it. Every 
treaty is as sure to disappoint extravagant expectations, ds to 
disarm extravagant passions. Of the latter, hatred is one that 
takes no bribes : they who are animated by the spirit of revenge, 
Avill not be quieted by the possibility of profit. 

Why do they complain, that the West-indies are not laid 
open ? Why do they lament, that any restriction is stipulated 
on the commerce of the East-Indies ? Why do they pretend, 
that it they reject this, and insist upon more, moi'e will be 
accomplished ? Let us be explicit — more would not satisfy. If 
all was granted, would not a treaty of amity with Britain still 
be obnoxious ? Have we not this instant heard it urged against 
our envoy, that he was not ardent enough in his hatred of 
Great Britain ? A treaty of amity is condemned because it was 
not made by a foe, and in the spiint of one. The same gentle- 
man, at the same instant, repeats a very prevailing objection, 
that no treaty should be made with the enemy of France. No 
treaty, exclaim others, should be made with a monarch or a 
despot : there will be no naval security while those sea robbers 
domineer on the ocean : their den nmst be destroyed : that 
nation must be extirpated. 

I LIKE this, sir, because it is sincerity. With feelings such 
as these, we do not pant for treaties : such passions seek 
nothing, and will be content with nothing, but the destruction 
of their object. If a treaty left king George his island, it 



BRITISH TREATY. .73 

would not answer, not if he stipulated to pay rent for it. It 
has been said, the world ought to rejoice, if Britain was sunk 
in the sea ; if, where there are now men, and wealth, and laws, 
and liberty, there was no more than a sand bank for the sea 
monsters to fatten on, a space for the storms of the ocean to 
mingle in conflict. 

I OBJECT nothing to the good sense or humanity of all this. 
I yield the point, that this is a proof that the age of reason is 
in progress. Let it be philanthropy, let it be patriotism, if 
you will ; but it is no indication, that any treaty would be ap- 
proved. The difficulty is not to overcome the objections to 
the terms ; it is to restrain the repugnance to any stipulations 
of amity with the party. 

Having alluded to the rival of Great Britain, I am not un- 
willing to explain myself: I affect no concealment, and I have 
practised none. While those two great nations agitate all 
Europe with their quarrels, they will both equally endeavour 
to create an influence in America : each will exert all its arts 
to range our strength on its own side. How is this to be 
effected ? Our government is a democratical republick : it will 
not be disposed to pursue a system of politicks, in subservience 
to either France or England, in opposition to the general 
Avishes of the citizens : and, if congress should adopt such 
measures, they would not be pursued long, nor with much 
success. From the nature of our government, popularity is 
the instrument of foi'eign influence. Without it, all is labour 
and disappointment : with that mighty auxiliary, foreign in- 
trigue finds agents, not only volunteers, but competitors for 
employment, and any thing like reluctance is understood to be a 
crime. Has Britain this means of influence ? Certainly not. 
If her gold could buy adherents, their becoming such would 
deprive them of all political power and importance. They 
would not wield popularity as a weapon, but would fall under 
it. Britain has no influence, and, for the reasons just given, 
can have none. She has enough ; and God forbid she ever 
should have more. France, possessed of popular enthusiasm, 
of paity attachments, has had, and still has, too much influence 
10 



74, SPEECH ON THE 

on our politicks : any foreign influence is too much and ought 
to be destroyed. I detest t)ie iii.in, and disdain tlie spirits, that 
can bend to a mean subserviency to the view of any nation. It 
is enough to be Americans : that character comprehends our 
duties, and ought to engross our attachments. 

But I would not h6 misunderstood. I would not break the 
alliance with France : I would not have the connection between 
the two countries even a cold one. It should be cordial and 
sincere ; but I would banish that influence, which, by acting 
on the passions of the citizens, may acquire a power over the 
government. 

It is no bad proof of the merit of the treaty, that, under all 
these unfavourable circumstances, it should be so well approv- 
ed. In spite of first impressions, in spite of misrepresentation 
and party clamour, inquiry has multiplied its advocates ; and 
at last the publick sentiment appears to me clearly preponde- 
rating to its side. 

On the most careful review of the several branches of the 
treaty, those Avhich respect political arrangements, the spolia- 
tions on our trade, and the regulation of commerce, there is 
little to be apprehended ; the evil, aggravated as it is by party, 
is little in degree, and short in duration — two years from the 
end of the European war. I ask, and I would ask the question 
significantly, what are the inducements to reject the treaty ? 
What great object is to be gained, and fairly gained by it ? If, 
hoAvever, as to the merits of the treaty, candour should suspend 
its approbation, what is there to hold patriotism a moment in 
balance as to the violation of it ? Nothing. I repeat confidently, 
nothing. There is nothing before us in that event, but con- 
fusion and dishonour. 

But before I attempt to develope those consequences, I 
must put myself at ease by some explanation. Nothing is 
worse received among men, than the confutation of their 
opinions ; and, of these, none are more dear or more vvilnera- 
ble than their political opinions. To say, that a proposition 
leads to shame and ruin, is almost equivalent to a charge, that 
the supporters of it intend to produce them. I throw myself 



BRITISH TREATY. 75 

" upon the inagnanimity and candour of those who hear me. I 
cannot do justice to my subject without exposing, as forcibly 
as I can, all the evils in prospect. I readily admit, that in 
every science, and most of all in politicks, errour springs from 
other sources than the want of sense or integrity. I despise 
indiscriminate professions of candour and respect. There are 
individuals opposed to me, of whom I am not bound to say any 
thing ; but of many, perhaps of a majority of the opposers of 
the appropriations, it gives me pleasure to declare, they pos- 
sess my confidence and i-egard. T'here are among them in- 
dividuals, for whom I entertain a cordial affection. 

The consequences of refusing to make provision for the 
treaty arc not all to be foreseen. By rejecting, vast interests 
are committed to the sport of the winds : chance becomes the 
arbiter of events, and it is forbidden to human foresight to 
count their number, or measure tiieir extent. Before we 
resolve to leap into this abyss, so dark and so profound, it 
becomes us to pause, and reflect upon such of the dangers as 
are obvious and inevitable. If this assembly should be wrought 
into a temper to defy these consec^uences, it is vain, it is decep- 
tive to pretend, that we can escape them. It is worse than 
weakness to say, that, as to publick faith, our vote has already- 
settled the question. Another tribunal than our own is already 
erected : the publick opinion, not merely of our own country, 
but of the enlightened world, will pronounce a judgment that 
we cannot resist, that we dare not even affect to despise. 

Well may I urge it to men, who know the worth of charac- 
ter, that it is no trivial calamity to have it contested. Refusing 
to do what the treaty stipulates shall be done, opens the con- 
troversy. Even if we should stand justified at last, a character 
that is vmdicated is something worse than it stood before, 
unquestioned and unquestionable. Like the plaintiff in an 
action of slander, we recover a reputation disfigured by invec- 
tive, and even tarnished by too much handling. In the com- 
bat for the honour of the nation, it may receive some wounds, 
which, though they should heal, will leave scars. I need not say, 
for surely the feelings of every bosom have anticipated, that ws 



76 SPEECH ON THE 

cannot guard this sense of national honour, this ever living fire, 
which alone keeps patriotism warm in the heart, with a sensi- 
bility too vigilant and jealous. If, by executing the treaty, there 
is no possibility of dishonour, and if, by rejecting, there is some 
foundation for doubt and for reproach, it is not for me to mea- 
sure ; it is for your own feelings to estimate, the vast distance 
that divides the one side of the alternative from the other. 

If therefore we should enter on the examination of the 
question of duty and obligation with some feelings of prepos- 
session, I do not hesitate to say, they are such as we ought to 
have : it is an after inquiry to determine, whether they are such 
as ought finally to be resisted. 

The resolution (Mr. Blount's) is less explicit than the con- 
stitution. Its patrons should have made it more so, if possible, 
if they had any doubts, or meant the publick should entertain 
none. Is it the sense of that vote, as some have insinuated, 
that we claim a right, for any cause or no cause at all, but our 
own sovereign will and pleasure, to refuse to execute, and 
thereby to annul the stipulations of a treaty ? that we have 
nothing to regard but the expediency or inexpediency of the 
measure, being absolutely free from all obligation by compact 
to give it our sanction ? A doctrine so monstrous, so shame- 
less, is refuted by being avowed. There are no words you 
could express it in, that would not convey both confutation and 
reproach. It would outrage the ignorance of the tenth century 
to believe ; it would baffle the casuistry of a papal council to 
vindicate. I venture to say it is impossible. No less impossi- 
ble that we should desire to assert the scandalous privilege of 
being free, after we have pledged our honour. 

It is doing injustice to the resolution of the house, (which I 
dislike on many accounts) to strain the interpretation of it to 
this extravagance. The treaty-making power is declared by 
it to be vested exclusivelv in the president and senate. Will 
any man in his senses affirm, that it can be a treaty before it 
it has any binding force or obligation ? If it has no binding 
foi'ce upon us, it has none upon Great Britain. Let candour 
answer, is Great Britain free from any obligation to deliver 



BRITISH TREATY. 17 

the posts in June, and are we willing to signify to her, that 
we think so ? Is it with that nation a question of mere expedi- 
ency or inexpediency to do it ; and that too, even after we have 
done all tliat depends upon us to give the treaty effect ? No 
sober man believes this. No one who would not join in con- 
demning the faithless proceeding of that nation, if such a doc- 
trine should be avowed, and carried into practice : and why 
complain, if Great Britain is not bound ? There can be no 
breach of faith, where none is plighted. I shall be told, that 
she is bound. Sui'ely it follows, that, if she is bound to per- 
foniiance, our nation is under a similar obligation : if both parties 
be not obliged, neither is obliged ; it is no compact, no treaty. 
This is a dictate of law and common sense, and every jury in 
the countiy has sanctioned it on oath. It cannot be a treaty 
and yet no treaty, a bargain and yet no promise. If it is a pro- 
mise, I am not to read a lecture to shew, why an honest man 
will keep his promise. 

The reason of the thing, and the words of the resolution of 
the house, imply, that the United States engage their good 
faith in a treaty. We disclaim, say the majority, the treaty- 
making power, we of course disclaim (they ought to say) 
eveiy doctrine, that would pnt a negative upon the doings of 
that power. It is the prerogative of folly alone to maintain 
both sides of the proposition. 

Will any man affirm, the American nation is engaged by 
good faith to the British nation ; but that engagement is no- 
thing to this house ? Such a man is not to be reasoned with. 
Such a doctrine is a coat of mail, that would turn the edge of 
all the weapons of argument, if they Avere sharper than a 
sword. Will it be imagined the king of Great Britain and the 
president are mutually bound by the treaty j but the two nations 
are free ? 

It is one thing for this house to stand in a position, that pre- 
sents an opportunity to break the faith of America, and another 
to establish a principle that will justify the deed. 

We feel less repugnance to believe, that any other body is 
■bound by obligation t,han our own. There is not a man here, 



rS SPEECH ON THE 

who does not say that deat Britain is bound by treaty. Bring 
it nearer home. Is the senate bound ? Just as much as the 
house and no more. Suppose the senate, as part of the treaty 
power, by ratiiyint;; a treaty on Monday, pledges the publick 
faith to do a certain act. Then, in their ordinary capacity as a 
branch of tiie legislature, the senate is called upon on Tuesday 
to perform that act, for example, an appropriation of money, 
is the senate (so lately under obligation) now free to agree or 
disagree to the act ? If the twenty ratifying senators should rise 
up and avow this principle, saying, we strviggle for liberty, 
we will not be cyphers, mere puppets, and give their votes 
accordingly, would not shame blister their tongues, would not 
infamy tingle in their ears, would not their country, which 
they had insulted and dishonoured, though it should be silent 
and forgiving, be a revolutionary tribunal, a x*ack, on which 
their OAvn reflections would stretch them I 

This, sir, is a cause, that would be dishonoured and betray- 
ed, it 1 contented myself with appealing only to the understand- 
ing. It is too cold, and its processes are too slow for the 
occasion. I desire to thank God, that, since he has given mc 
an intellect so fallible, he has impressed upon me an instinct 
that is sure. On a question of shame and honour, reasoning is 
sometimes useless, and worse. I feel the decision in my 
pulse : if it throws no light upon the brain, it kindles a fire at 
the heart. 

It is not easy to deny, it is impossible to doubt, that a treaty 
imposes an obligation on the American nation. It would be 
childish to consider the president and senate obliged, and the 
nation and house free. What is the obligation ? perfect or 
j-mperfect ? If perfect, the debate is brought to a conclusion. 
If imperfect, how large a part of our faith is pawned ? Is half 
our honour put at risk, and is that half too cheap to be redeem- 
ed ? How long has this hair-splitting subdivision of good faith 
been discovered, and why has it escaped the researches of the 
Avriters on the law of nations? Shall we add a new chapter to 
that law ; or insert this doctrine as a supplement to, or more 
properly a repeal of the ten commandments ? 



BRITISH TREATY. 79 

The principles and the example of the British parliament 
have been alleged to coincide with the doctrine of those, who 
deny the obligation of the treaty. I have not had the health to 
make very laborious researches into this subject ; I will, how- 
ever, sketch my view of it. Several instances have been 
noticed ; but the treaty of Utrecht is the only one that seems to 
be at all applicable. It has been answered, that the conduct of 
parliament in that celebrated example affords no sanction to 
our refusal to cany the treaty into effect. The obligation of the 
treaty of Utrecht has been vmderstood to depend on the con- 
currence of parliament, as a condition to its becoming of force. 
If that opinion should, however, appear incorrect, still the prece- 
dent proves, not that the treaty of Uti'echt wanted obligation, 
but that parliament disregarded it : a proof, not of the construc- 
tion of the treaty -making power, but of the violation of a nation- 
al engagement. Admitting still further, that the parliament 
claimed and exercised its power, not as a breach of faith, but 
as a matter of constitutional right, I reply that the analogy 
between parliament and congress totally fails. The nature of 
the British government may require and justify a course of 
proceeding in respect to treaties, that is unwarrantable here. 

The British government is a mixed one. The king at the 
head of the army, of the hierarchy, with an ample civil list, 
hereditary, unresponsible, and possessing the prerogative of 
peace and war, may be properly observed with some jealousy, 
in respect to the exercise of the treaty-making power. It seems, 
and perhaps from a spirit of caution on this account, to be 
their doctrine, that treaties bind the nation, but are not to be 
regarded by the courts of law, until laws have been passed 
conformably to them. Our constitution has expressly regulat- 
ed the matter diffei'ently. The concurrence of parliament is 
necessary to treaties becoming laws in England, gentlemen 
say ; and here the senate, representing the states, must concur 
in treaties. The constitution, and the reason of the case make 
the concurrence of the senate as effectual as the sanction of 
parliament ; and why not ? The senate is an elective body, and 
the approbation of a majority of the states affords the nation 



80 SPEECH ON THE 

as ample security against the abuse of the treaty -making power, 
as the British nation can enjoy in the controul of parliament. 

Whatever doubt there rnay be as to the parliamentary 
doctrine of the obligation of treaties in Great Britain, (and 
perhaps there is some) there is none in their books, or their 
modern practice. Blackstone I'epresents treaties as of the 
highest obligation, when ratified by the king : and for almost 
a centuiy, there has been no instance of opposition by parlia- 
ment to this doctrine. Their treaties have been uniformly 
carried into effect, although many have been ratified of a 
nature most obnoxious to party, and have produced a louder 
clamour than we have lately witnessed. The example of Eng- 
land, therefore, fairly examined, does not warrant, it dissuades 
us from a negative vote. 

Gentlemen have said, with spirit, whatever the true doctrine 
of our constitution may be. Great Britain has no right to com- 
plain or to dictate an interpretation : the sense of the American 
nation, as to the treaty power, is to be received by all foreign 
nations. This is very true as a maxim ; but the fact is against 
those who vouch it : the sense of the American nation is not 
as the vote of the house has declared it. Our claim to some 
agency in givmg force and obligation to treaties, is beyond all 
kind of controversy NOVEL. The sense of the nation is probably 
against it : the sense of the government certainly is. The pre- 
sident denies it on constitutional grounds, and therefore cannot 
ever accede to our interpretation. The senate ratified the 
treaty, and cannot without dishonour adopt it, as I have 
attempted to shew. Where then do they find the proof, that 
this is the American sense of the treaty-making power, which 
is to silence the murmurs of Great Britain ? Is it because a 
majority of two or three, or, at the most, four or five of this 
house will reject the treaty ? Is it thus the sense of our nation 
is to be recognised ? Our government may thus be stopped 
in its movements : a struggle for power may thus commence, 
and the event of the conflict may decide, who is the victor, and 
tlie quiet possessor of the treaty power. But, at present, it is 
beyond all credibility, that our vote by a bare majority, should 



BRITISH TREATY. 81 

be believed to do any thing better than to embitter our divisions, 
and to tear up tiie settled ibundutions otoiu' departments. 

If the obligation of a treaty be complete, 1 am awure that 
cases sometimes exist, which will justify a nation in refusing 
a compliance. Are our liberties^ gentlemen demand, to be bar- 
tered away by a treaty, and is there no remedy ? There is. 
Extremes are not to be supposed ; but, when they happen, 
they make the law for themselves. No such extreme can be 
pretended in this instance ; and, if it existed, the authority it 
would confer to throw off the obligation would rest where the 
obligation itself resides, in the nation. This house is not the 
nation ; it is not the whole delegated authority of the nation. 
Being only a part of that authority, its right to act for the M-hole 
society obviously depends on the concurrence of the other two 
branches. If they I'efuse to concur, a treaty once made re- 
mains of full force, although a breach on the part of the for- 
eign nation w^uld confer upon our own a right to forbear the 
execution. I repeat it, even in that case, the act of this house 
cannot be admitted as the act of the nation ; and if the president 
and senate should not concur, the treaty would be obligatory. 
I PUT a case that will not fail to produce conviction. Our 
treaty with France engages, that free bottoms shall make free 
goods ; and how has it been kept ? As fiuch engagements will 
ever be in time of war. France has set it aside, and pleads 
imperious necessity. We have no navy to enforce the obser- 
vance of such articles, and paper barriers are weak against the 
violence of those, who are on the scramble for enemy's goods 
on the high seas. The breach of any article of the treaty by 
one nation gives an undoubted right to the other to renounce 
the whole treaty. But has one branch of the government that 
right, or must it reside with the whole authority of the nation ? 
What if the senate should resolve, that the French treaty is 
broken, and therefore null and of no effect ? The answer is 
obvious ; you would deny their sole authority. That branch of 
the legislature has equal power, in this regard, with the house 
of representatives : one branch alone cannot express the will 
«f the nation. 

II 



82 SPEECH ON THE 

A RIGHT to annul a treaty, because a foreign nation has 
broken its articles, is only like the case of a sufficient cause to 
repeal a law. In both cases, the branches of our government 
must concur in the orderly way, or the law and the treaty will 
remain. 

The very cases supposed by my adversaries in this argu- 
ment, conclude against themselves. They will persist in con- 
founding ideas, that should be kept distinct ; they will suppose, 
that the house of representatives has no power unless it has all 
power : the house is nothing, if it be not the whole government, 
the nation. 

On every hypothesis, therefore, the conclusion is not to be 
resisted : we are either to execute this treaty, or break our faith. 

To expatiate on the value of publick faith may pass with some 
men for declamation : to such men I have nothing to say. To 
others I will urge, can any circumstance mark vipon a people 
more turpitude and debasement ? Can any thing tend more to 
make men think themselves mean, or degrade to a lower point 
their estimation of virtue and their standard of action ? It would 
not merely demoralize mankind ; it tends to break all the liga- 
ments of society, to dissolve that mysterious charm which 
attracts individuals to the nation, and to inspire in its stead a 
repulsive sense of shame and disgust. 

What is patriotism ? Is it a narrow affection for the spot 
where a man was born ? Are the very clods where we tread 
entitled to this ardent preference, because they are greener ? 
No, sir, this is not the character of the virtue, and it soars 
higher for its object. It is an extended self-love, mingling 
with all the enjoyments of life, and twisting itself with the 
minutest filaments of the heart. It is thus we obey the laws 
of society, because they are the laws of virtue. In their author- 
ity we see, not the array of force and terrour, but the venei'a- 
ble image of our country's honour. Every good citizen makes 
that honour his own, and cherishes it not only as precious, but 
as sacred. He is willing to risk his life in its defence ; and is 
conscious that he gains protection, while he gives it. For what 
rights of a citizen will be deemed inviolable, when a state 



BRITISH TREATY. 83 

renounces the principles that constitute their security ? Or, if 
his life should not be invaded, what would its enjoyments be in 
a country odious in the eyes of strangers, and dishonoured in 
his own ? Could he look with affection and veneration to such 
a country as his parent ? The sense of having one, would die 
within him ; he would blush for his patriotism, if he retained 
any, and justly, for it would be a vice : he would be a ban- 
ished man in his native land. 

I SEE no exception to the respect that is paid among na- 
tions to the law of good faith. If there are cases in this enlight- 
ened period when it is violated, there are none when it is decri- 
ed. It is the philosophy of politicks, the religion of govern- 
ments. It is observed by barbarians : a whiff, of tobacco smoke, 
or a string of beads, gives not merely binding force, but sanc- 
tity to treaties. Even in Algiers, a truce may be bought for 
money ; but, when ratified, even Algiers is too wise or too 
just to disown and annul its obligation. Thus Ave see, neither 
the ignorance of savages, nor the principles of an association 
for piracy and rapine, permit a nation to despise its engage- 
ments. If, sir, there could be a resurrection from the foot of 
the gallows, if the victims of justice could live again, collect 
together and form a society, they would, however loath, soon 
find themselves obliged to make justice, that justice under 
which they fell, the fundamental law of their state. They 
would perceive it was their interest to make others respect, 
and they would therefore soon pay some respect themselves to 
the obligations of good faith. 

It is painful, I hope it is superfluous, to make even the 
supposition, that America should furnish the occasion of this 
opprobrium. No, let me not even imagine, that a republican 
government, sprung, as our own is, from a people enlightened 
and uncorrupted, a government whose origin is right, and 
whose daily discipline is duty, can, upon solemn debate, make 
its option to be faithless ; can dare to act what despots dare not 
avow, what our own example evinces the states of Barbary are 
unsuspected of No, let me rather make the supposition, that 
Great Britain refuses to execute the treaty, after we have done 



/* 



84 SPEECH ON THE 

eveiy thing to carry it into effect. Is there any language of 
reproach pungent enough to express your commentary on the 
fact ? What would you say, or, rather, what would yo»i not say ? 
Would you not tell them, wherever an Englishman might 
travel, shame would stick to him : he would disown his coun- 
tiy. You would exclaim, England, proud of your wealth, and 
arrogant in the possession of power, blush for these distinc- 
tions, which become the vehicles of your dishonour. Such a 
nation might tnily say to corruption, thou art my father, and to 
the worm, thou art my mother and my sister. We should say 
of such a race of men, their iiame is a heavier burden than 
their debt. 

I CAN scarcely persuade myself to believe, that the consider- 
ation T have suggested requires the aid of any auxiliary ; but, 
unfortunately, auxiii.iiy arguments are at hand. Five millions 
of dollars, and probably more, on the score of spoliations com- 
mitted on our commerce, depend upon the treaty : the treaty 
offers the only prospect of indemnity. Such redress is promis- 
ed as the merchants place some confidence in. Will you inter- 
pose and frustrate that hope, leaving to many families nothing 
but beggaiy and despair ? It is a smooth proceeding to take a 
vote in this body : it takes less than half an hour to call the 
yeas and nays, and reject the treaty. But what is the effect of 
it ? What but this : the very men, formerly so loud for redress, 
such fierce champions, that even to ask for justice was too 
mean and too slow, now turn their capricious fuiy upon the 
sufierers, and say, by their vote, to them and their families, 
no longer eat bread : petitioners go home and starve : we can- 
not satisfy your wi^ongs, and ovu- resentments. 

Will you pay the sufferers out of the treasury ? No. The 
answer was given two years ago, and appears on our journals. 
Will you give them letters of marque and reprisal, to pay 
themselves by force ? No. That is war. Besides it would be 
an opportunity for those who have already lost miuch, to lose 
more. Will you go to war to avenge their injury ? If you do, 
the war will leave you no money to indemnify them. If it 
should be unsuccessful, you will aggravate existing evils : if 



BRITISH TREATY. 85 

successful, your enemy will have no treasure left to give our 
mei'chants: the first losses will be confounded with much 
greater, tind be forgotten. At the end of a war there must be 
a negociation, which is the very point we have already gained : 
and why relincjuish it ? And who will be confident, that the 
terms of tlie negociation, after a desolating war, would be 
more acceptiible to another house of representatives than the 
treaty before us ? Members and opinions may be so changed, 
that the treaty would then be rejected for being what the pre- 
sent majority say it should be. Whether we shall go on making 
treaties and refusing to execute them, I know not : of this I 
am certiin, it will be very difficult to exercise the treaty-mak- 
ing power on the new principle, with much reputation or 
advantage to the country. 

The refusal of the posts (inevitable if we reject the treaty) 
is a measure too decisive in its nature to be neutral in its con- 
sequences. From great causes we are to look for great 
effects. A plain and obvious one will be, the price of the 
Western lands will fall : settlers will not choose to fix their habi- 
tation on a field of battle. Those who talk so much of the 
interest of the United States should calculate, how deeply it 
will be affected by rejecting the treaty ; how vast a tract of 
wild land will almost cease ta be property. This loss, let it 
be observed, will fall upon a fund expressly devoted to sink 
the national debt. What then are we called upon to do ? 
However the form of the vote and the protestations of many may 
disguise the proceeding, our resolution is in substance, and it 
deserves to wear the title of a resolution, to prevent the sale 
of the Western lands and the discharge of the publick debt. 

Will tlie tendency to Indian hostilities be contested by any 
one ? Expei'ience gives the answer. The frontiers were 
scourged with war, until the negociation with Great Britain was 
fai' advanced ; and then the state of hostility ceased. Perhaps 
the publick ageiits of both nations are innocent of fomenting 
the Indian war, and pei'haps they are not. We ought not, 
however, to expect that neighbouring nations, highly irritated 
against each other, will neglect the friendship of the savages. 



86 SPEECH ON THE 

The traders will gain an influence, and will abuse it ; and who 
is ignorant that their passions are easily raised and hardly 
restrained from violence ? Their situation Avill oblige them to 
choose between this country and Great Britain, in case the 
treaty should be rejected : they will not be our Wends, and at 
the same time the friends of our enemies. 

But am I reduced to the necessity of proving this point ? 
Certainly the very men who charged the Indian war on the 
detention of the posts, will call for no other proof than the 
recital of their own speeches. It is remembered, with what 
emphasis, with what acrimony, they expatiated on the burden 
of taxes, and the drain of blood and treasure into the Western 
country, in consequence of Britain's holding the posts. Until 
the posts are restored, they exclaimed, tlie treasury and the 
frontiers must bleed. 

If any, against all these proofs, should maintain, tliat the 
peace with the Indians will be stable without the posts, to them 
I will urge another reply. From arguments calculated to pro- 
duce conviction, I will appeal directly to the hearts of those 
who hear me, and ask whether it is not already planted there ? 
I resort especially to the convictions of the Western gentle- 
men, whether, supposing no posts and no treaty, the settlers 
will remain in security ? Can they take it upon them to say, 
that an Indian peace, under these circumstances, will prove 
firm ? No, sir, it will not be peace, but a sword ; it will be no 
better than a lure to draw victims within the I'each of the 
tomahawk. 

On this theme, my emotions are unutterable. If I could 
find words for them, if my powers bore any proportion to my 
zeal, I would swell my voice to such a note of remonstrance, 
it should reach every log-house beyond the mountains. I would 
say to the inhabitants, wake from your false security : your 
cruel dangers, your more cruel apprehensions are soon to be 
renewed : the wounds, yet unhealed, are to be torn open again : 
in the day time, your path through the woods will be ambush- 
ed ; the darkness of midnight will glitter with the blaze of 
your dwellings. You are a father — ^the blood of your sons shall 



BRITISH TREATY. 87 

fatten your com-field : you are a mother — ^the war hoop shall 
wake the sleep of the cradle. 

On this subjecj; you need not suspect any deception on your 
feelings : it is a spectacle of horrour, which cannot be over- 
drawn. If you have nature in your hearts, they will speak a 
language, compared with which all I have said or can say will 
be poor and frigid. 

Will it be whispered, that the treaty has made me a new 
champion for the protection of the frontiers. It is known, that 
my voice as well as vote have been uniformly given in confor- 
mity with the ideas I have expressed. Protection is the right 
of the frontiers ; it is our duty to give it. 

Who will accuse me. of wandering out of the subject ? Who 
will say, that I exaggerate the tendencies of our measures ? 
Will any one answer by a sneer, that all this is idle preaching. 
Will any one deny, that we ax^e bound, and I would hope to 
good purpose, by the most solemn sanctions of duty for the 
vote w^ give ? Are despots alone to be reproached for unfeel- 
ing indifference to the tears and blood of their subjects ? Arc 
republicans unresponsible ? Have the principles, on which you 
ground the reproach upon cabinets and kings, no practical 
influence, no binding force ? Are they merely themes of idle 
declamation, introduced to decorate the morality of a news- 
paper essay, or to furnish pretty topicks of harangue from the 
windows of that state-house ? I trust it is neither too presump- 
tuous nor too late to ask : Can you put the dearest interest of 
society at risk, without guilt, and without remorse ? 

It is vain to offer as an excuse, that publick men are not 
to be reproached for the evils that may happen to ensue from 
their measures. This is very ti'ue, where they are unforeseen 
or inevitable. Those I have depicted are not unforeseen: 
they are so far from inevitable, we are going to bring them 
into being by our vote : we choose the consequences, and 
become as justly answerable for them, as for the measure that 
we know will produce them. 

By rejecting the posts, we light the savage fires, we bind 
the victims. This day we undertake to I'ender account to the 



88 SPEECH ON THE 

widows and orphans whom our decision will make, to the 
wretches that will be roasted at the stake, to our country, and 
I do not deem it too serious to say, to conscience and to God. 
We are answerable ; and if duty be any thing more than a 
woi'd of imposture, if conscience be not a bugbear, we are pre- 
paring to make ourselves as wretched as our country. 

There is no mistake in this case, there can be none : ex- 
perience has already been the prophet of events, and the cries 
of our future victims have already reached us. The Western 
inhabitants are not a silent and uncomplaining sacrifice. The 
voice of humanity issues from the- shade of the wilderness : it 
exclaims, that, while one hand is held up to reject this treaty, 
the other grasps a tomahawk. It summons our imagination 
to the scenes that will open. It is no great efibrt of the 
imagination to conceive tliat events so near are already begun. 
I can fancy that I listen to the yells of savage vengeance and 
the shrieks of torture : already they seem to sigh in the Western 
Avind ; already they mingle with every echo from the moun- 
tains. 

It is not the part of prudence to be inattentive to the ten- 
dencies of measures : where there is any ground to fear that 
these will be pernicious, wisdom and duty forbid that we should 
under-rate them. If we reject the treaty, will our peace be 
as safe as if we execute it with good faith ? I do honour to the 
intrepid spirit of those who say it will. It was formerly un- 
derstood to constitute the excellence of a man's faith, to believe 
without evidence and against it. 

But, as opinions on this article are changed, and we are 
called to act for our country, it becomes us to explore the 
dangers that will attend its peace, and avoid them if we can. 
Few of us here, and fewer still in proportion of our constituents, 
will doubt, that, by rejecting, all those dangers will be aggra- 
vated. 

The idea of war is treated as a bugbear. This levity is at 
least unseasonable, and most of all unbecoming some who 
resort to it. \Vho has forgotten the philippicks of 1794 ? The 
ciy then was, reparation ; no envoy ; no treaty ; no tedious 



BRITISH TREATY. 89 

delays. Now it seems the passion subsides, or at least the 
hurry to satisfy it. Great Britain, say they, Mill not wage war 
upon us. 

In 1794, it was urged by those who now say, no war, that, 
if we built frigates, or resisted the piracies of Algiers, we 
could not expect peace. Now they give excellent comfort 
truly. Great Britain has seized our vessels and cargoes to the 
amount of millions ; she holds the posts ; she interrupts our 
trade, say they, as a neutral nation; and these gentlemen, 
fomierly so fierce for redress, assure us, in terms of the 
sweetest consolation, Great Britain will bear all this patiently; 
But let mc ask the late champions of our rights, will our na- 
tion bear it ? Let others exult because the aggressor will let 
our wrongs sleep for ever. Will it add, it is my duty to ask, 
to the patience and quiet of our citizens to see their rights 
abandoned ? Will not the disappointment of their hopes, so 
long patronised by the government, now in the crisis of their 
being realized, convert all their passions into fury and despair? 

Are the posts to remain for ever in the possession of Great 
Britain ? Let those who reject them, when the treaty offers them 
to our hands, say, if they choose, they are of no importance. 
If they are, will they take them by force ? The argument I am. 
urging would then come to a point. To use force is war ; t* 
talk of treaty again is too absurd : the posts and redress must, 
come from voluntary good will, treaty, or war. The conclu- 
sion is plain : if the state of peace shall continue, so will the 
British possession of the posts. 

Look again at this state of things : on the sea coast, vast 
losses uncompensated ; on the frontier, Indian war, and actuai 
encroachment on our territory ; every where discontent ; re- 
sentments tenfold more fierce because they Mill be impotent 
and humbled ; national discord and abasement. The disputes 
of the old treaty of 1783, being left to rankle. Mill revive the 
almost extinguished animosities of that period. Wars in all 
countries, and most of all in such as are free, arise from the 
impetuosity of the public feelings. The despotism of Turkey 
is often obliged by clamour to unsheath the sword. War 
I'? 



90 SPEECH ON THE 

might perhaps be delayed, but could not be prevented : the 
causes of it would remain, would be aggravated, would be 
multiplied, and soon become intolerable. More captures, 
more impressments would swell the list of our wrongs, and 
the current of our rage. I make no calculation of the arts of 
those whose employment it has been, on former occasions, to 
fan the fire ; I say nothing of the foreign money and emissaries 
that might foment the spirit of hostility, because the state of 
things will naturally run to violence : with less than their 
former exertion, they would be successful. 

Will our government be able to temper and restrain the 
turbulence of such a crisis ? The government, alas ! will be 
in no capacity to govern. A divided people, and divided 
counsels ! Shall we cherish the spirit of peace, or shcAV the 
energies of war ? Shall we make our adversary afraid of our 
strength, or dispose him, by the measures of resentment and 
broken faith, to respect our rights ? Do gentlemen rely on the 
state of peace, because both nations will be worse disposed to 
keep it ? because injmies, and insults still harder to endure, 
will be mutually offered ? 

Such a state of things will exist, if we should long avoid 
wai*, as will be worse than war : peace without security, ac- 
cumulation of injury without redress, or the hope of it, resent- 
ment against the aggressoi', contempt for ovu'selves, intestine 
discoi'd, and anarchy. Worse than this need not be appre- 
hended, for if worse could happen, anarchy would bring it. Is 
this the peace gentlemen undertake, with such fearless confi- 
dence, to maintain ? Is this the station of American dignity, 
which the high-spirited champions of our national independence 
and honour could endure ; nay, which they are anxious and 
almost violent to seize for the country ? ^Vhat is there in the 
treaty that could humble us so low ? Are they the men to 
swallow their resentments, who so lately were choking with 
them ? If in the case contemplated by them, it should be peace, 
I do not hesitate to declare, it ought not to be peace. 

Is there any thing in the prospect of the interiour state of 
the country, to encourage us to aggravate the dangers' of a 



BRITISH TREATY. 91 

Avar ? Would not the shock of that evil produce another, and 
shake down the feeble and then unbraced structure of our 
government ? Is this a chimera ? Is it going off the ground of 
matter of fact to say, the rejection of the appropriation proceeds 
upon the doctrine of a civil war of the departments. Two 
branches have ratified a treaty ; and we are going to set it aside. 
How is this disorder in the machine to be rectified ? While it 
exists, its movements must stop ; and when we talk of a 
remedy, is that any other than the formidable one of a revolu- 
tionary interposition of the people ? And is this, in the judg- 
n^ent even of my opposers, to execute, to preserve the con- 
stitution, and tJie publick order ? Is this the state of hazard, if 
not of convulsion, which they can have the courage to contem- 
plate and to brave ; or beyond -which their penetration can 
reach and see the issue ? They seem to believe, and they act 
as if they believed, that our union, our peace, our liberty, are 
invulnerable and immortal ; as if our happy state Avas not to be 
disturbed by our dissentions, and that we are not capable of 
billing from it by our vuiAVorthiness. Some of them have no 
doubt better nerves and better discernment than mine. They 
can see the bright aspects and happy consequences of all this 
array of horrours. They can see intestine discords, our govern- 
ment disorganized, our wrongs aggra\"ated, nnultiplied and un- 
redressed, peace Avith dishonour, or Avar Avithout justice, union 
or resources, in " the calm lights of mild philosophy." 

But Avhatever they may anticipate as the next measure of 
prudence and safety, they have explained nothing to the house. 
After rejecting the treaty, AVhat is to be the next Step ? They 
must have foreseen Avhat ought to be done ; they have doubt- 
less resolved Avhat to propose. Why then are they silent ? 
Dare they not noAv avoAv their plan of conduct, or do they wait 
until our progress towards confusion shall guide them in 
forming it ? 

I^ET me cheer the mind, weary no doubt and ready to 
despond on this prospect, by presenting another Avhich it is 
yet in our poAver to realize. Is it possible for a real American 
to look at the prosperity of tliis countiy, without some desire 



§2 SPEECH ON THE 

for its continuance, without some respect for the measures 
which, many will say, produced, and all will confess have pre- 
served it? Will he not feel some dread, that a change of 
system will reverse the scene ? The well grounded fears of our 
citizens, in 1794, were removed by the treaty, but are not 
forgotten. Then they deemed war nearly inevitable, and 
would not this adjustment have been considered at that day as 
a happy escape from the calamity ? The great interest and the 
general desire of our people was to enjoy the advantages of 
neutrality. This instrument, however misrepresented, affords 
America that inestimable secvirity. The causes of our dis- 
putes are either cut up by the roots, or referred to a nevr 
negociation, after the end of the European war. This was 
gaining every thing, because it confirmed our neutrality, by 
which our citizens are gaining every thing. This alone would 
justify the engagements of the government. For, when the 
fieiy vapours of the war lowered in the skirts of our horizon, 
all our wishes were concentred in this one, that we might 
escape the desolation of the storm. This treaty, like a rain- 
bow on the edge of the cloud, marked to our eyes the space 
where it was raging, and afforded at the same time the sure 
prognostick of fair weather. If we reject it, the vivid colours 
will grow pale, it will be a baleful meteor portending tempest 
and war. 

Let us not hesitate then to agree to the appropriation to 
carry it into fiiithful execution. Thus we shall save the faith 
of our nation, secure its peace, and diffuse the spirit of confi- 
dence and enterprise that will augment its prosperty. The 
progress of wealth and improvement is wonderful, and some 
will think, too rapid. The field for exertion is fruitful and 
vast, and if peace and good government should be preserved, 
the acquisitions of our citizens are not so pleasing as the 
proofs of their industry, as the instruments of their future 
success. The rewards of exertion go to augment its power. 
Profit is every hour becoming capital. The vast crop of our 
neutrality is all seed wheat, and is sown again, to swell, almost 
beyond calculation, the future harvest of prosperity. In tJ\|fe 



BRITISH TREATY. 93 

progress what seems to be fiction is found to fall short of 
experience. 

I ROSE to speak under impressions that I would have re- 
sisted if I could. Those who see me will believe, that the 
reduced state of my health has unfitted me, almost equally, 
for much exertion of body or mind. Unprepared for debate 
by careful reflection in my retii'ement, or by long attention 
here, I thought the resolution I had taken, to sit silent, was 
imposed by necessity, and would cost me no effort to maintain. 
With a mind thus vacant of ideas, and sinking, as I really am, 
under a sense of weakness, I imagined the very desire of 
speaking was extinguished by the persuasion that I had nothing 
to say. Yet when I come to the moment of deciding the vote, 
I start back with dread from the edge of the pit into which we 
are plunging. In my view, even the minutes I have spent in 
expostulation have their value, because they protract the 
crisis, and the short period in which alone we may resolve to 
escape it. - 

I HAVE thus been led by my feelings to speak more at 
length than I had intended. Yet I have perhaps as little 
personal interest in the event as any one here. There is, I 
believe, no member, who will not think his chance to be a 
witness of the consequences greater than mine. If, however, 
the vote should pass to reject, and a spirit should rise, as it 
will, with the publick disorders to make " confusion Avorse 
confounded," even I, slender and almost broken as my hold 
upon life is, may outlive the government and constitution of 
my country. 



[ 94 ] 

LAOCOON, N". I. 

I'ivst published in the Boston Gazette, AprU, 1799. 

In tlie two following essays the party aiming to subvert the federal cause and administration, 
are termed jacobins. "All wI\o from credulity, envy, anger, and pvide, from ambition or 
" cupidity, are impatient under tlie ivstraints, or impatient for tlie trappings of power," 
are arranged in one general clas«, and denominated from that portion of , it, which the 
anthour considered most dangerous. In thcother parts of his writings, lie admits a uifTerencr 
111 tlie chaiucter of those who compose a faction in a republic;',!! government. A democrat 
believes ni the siicci ss of impossible e\pt rlmcnts, and that it is easy to govern w ithout a 
government. A jacobin, vuiil of this civdtilily himself, seizes iipo)i it in others, ;uid uses 
it as a powerful instrument of his ambition. But they all reason, act, and feel, in a manner 
TintUvoiirable to a truly republican system, of w liich the permanent ptiblick good is the 
proper object and result. Hence he insisted, that tin re are fsseiit'ally but tw o divisions of 
■the active citizens, the fedi ral or republican, and the democratick or jacobin party. At 
the time Laocoon was written, the leaders of the deniocralick party were making despe- 
rate efibrts to bring federal or true repuldican principles, measuri^s, and men, into liutn d ; 
their spirit of falsehood and bitter malignity, excited the abbon-ence of the vvritei", while 
the apathy and presumption of the friends of government slioc-ktd and dismaye<l him. 
Writing under such impressions and feelnigs ; indignant at the liypocritical and audacious 
pretensions of false patriotism, and agitated and ovenvhelmed by the foresight of the ruin 
that would follow tlie downfal of the fedt-i-al system, he does not mai-k the grades of deme- 
l-it in those against whom he inve'ghs. He speaks of the party generally under the name 
of those guides and masters, by whom it is combined, animated, directed, and employed. 

OOME labour has been recently bestowed on the proposition, 
that the sect of jacobins is not to be converted, and in enforc- 
ing the obvious duty on all honest men to unite with energy 
to resist them. This alarm, it will be objected, is for ever 
sounding ; and it is replied, for ever sounding to the deaf. 
Honest men, it is allowed, reasonably expect to enjoy tran- 
quillity under the protection of government; instead of \vhich, it 
is not denied, that they arc incessantly summoned to tlieir 
posts, to afford to government tlie protection they had hoped 
it would be in a condition to bestow. The cry of danger dis- 
turbs their beloved and promised ease, disappoints their fond 
hopes, disgraces thoir splendid theories, and saddens that futu- 
rity which fancy had adorned like the millcnium. To the 
inhabitants of a besieged town fatigue renders repose more wel- 
come and more necessary ; the roar of cannon does not awake 
them. Familiar dangers lose half their terrour, and we yield. 



LAOCOON. 95 

^v iih a Aveakness which we will not detect and cannot resist, to 
the dekisions of every rumour without evidence, and every hope 
that rises up to console us against it. The federalist rises like 
the sluggard from his bed at the cry of fire, hoping that a little 
more water will quench it, and that he may then return to sleep 
undisturbed. It is not easy, perhaps it is not possible, to make 
the citizens political soldiers, to persuade them to sleep on 
their arms, ready at the beat of drum, to repel the assaults of 
the jacobins, on law and liberty. It will even sink their esti- 
mate of the value of civil liberty, to know that it gives joy, 
gives safety, honour, gives every thing bu*- sleep. They will 
be apt, in obedience to the suggestions of spleen and weariness, 
to say, that the smgle thing it denies is worth more than the 
million it bestows, and joyfully to embrace a political condi- 
tion, which would somewhat abate the pretension of each indi- 
vidual to be a sovereign, and I'equire a less painful effort to 
maintain it. 

It is, indeed, exceedingly obvious, that many, if not most 
persons have chosen the state of the highest liberty, without 
having counted how much it must cost to preserve it. The 
calumnies vented against president Adams's book, are signal 
proofs of the crude and indocile state of popular opinion 
amongst us. He has ingeniously described evils and faithful- 
ly and wisely pointed out their remedies : yet he is accused of 
being no friend to republicks, because he well understands 
their nature, and serioiisly dreads their dangers. The very 
factions who create and aggravate those dangers, and who 
neither understand nor desire those remedies, honour their 
own ignorance with the name of principle, and claim for their 
licentiousness the exclusive title of republicanism. If it fails, 
it is they who will make it fail. The impediments to its suc- 
cess, Avhich arise from the structure of the human heart, create 
surprise, though they were obviously inevitable, and some- 
thing like despair, though we know that they may be sur- 
mounted. 

Faction will freedom, like its shade, pursue ; 

Yet, like tlie shadow, proves tlie substance true. 



96 LAOCOON. 

We have to sustain an everlasting conflict with faction, a 
foe, destined to be the companion of liberty, and, at last, its 
assassin. However we may flatter ourselves with the idea, that 
our blows will prove fatal to this foe, yet, though smitten to the 
ground, it will rise again like Anteus, untired, invulnerable, 
and immortal. Nothing can more strikingly illustrate the 
folly of the jacobins, in their pretensions to a superiour vigi- 
lance for the fieofile^ than the natural and indeed experienced 
tendency of their turbulence to strengthen the powers of gov- 
ernment. The danger these men create, must be repelled by 
arming our rulers with force enough, and appointing them ta 
watch in our stead. Thus good citizens find, that they must 
submit to laws of the more rigour, because the desperate licen- 
tiousness and wickedness of the bad, could not be otherwise 
restrained. If the laws they complain of really abridge liberty, 
as they pretend, which, however, is positively denied, it is their 
OAvn wickedness that has supplied to government the pretext, 
imd varnished it over with the appearance of necessity. Quiet, 
satisfied people, need the least law ; but as the jacobins are of 
a very different character, it is clear that all the fruit of their 
pervei-seuess must be to abridge the liberty of the people ; and 
this too if they fail of success. But if they should previul, the 
jieojile would be crushed, as in Finance, under tyranny more 
vindictive, unfeeling, and rapacious, than that of Tiberius, Nero, 
or Caligula, or any single despot that ever existed. The rage 
of one man wDl be tired by repetition of outrage, or it may be 
eluded by art or by flight. It seldom smites the obscure, who 
are, many, but, like a gust, uproots chiefly the great trees that 
overtop the forest. A mobocracy, however, is always usurped 
by the worst men in the most corrupt times ; in a period of 
violence by the most violent. It is a Briareus with a thousand 
hands, each bearing a dagger ; a Cerberus gaping with ten thou- 
sand throats, all parched and thirsting for fresh blood. It is 
u genuine tyranny, but of all the least durable, yet the most 
destructive while it lasts. The power of a despot, like the 
ai'dour of a summer's sun, dries up the grass, but the roots 
remain fi-esh in the soil ; a mob-government, like a West- 



LAOCOON. 97 

India huvricane, instantly strews the fruitful earth with promis- 
cuous ruins, and turns the sky yellow with pestilence. Men 
inhale a vapour like the Sirocco, and die in the open air for 
want of respiration. It is a winged curse that envelops the 
obscure as well as the distinguished, and is wafted into the lurk- 
ing places of the fugitives. It is not doing justice to licentious- 
ness, to compare it to a wind which ravages the surflice of the 
earth ; it is an earthquake that loosens its foundations, burying 
in an hour the accumulated wealth and wisdom of ages. Those, 
who, after the calamity, would reconstruct the edifice of the 
publick liberty, will be scarely able to find the model of the arti- 
ficers, or even the ruins. INIountains have split and filled the 
fertile vallies, covering them with rocks and gravel ; rivers have 
changed their beds ; populous towns have sunk, leaving only 
frightful chasms, out of which are creeping the remnant of 
living wretches, the monuments and the victims of despair. 
This is no exaggerated description. Behold France, that open 
hell, still ringing with agonies and blasphemies, still smoking 
with sufferings and crimes, in which we see their state of tor- 
ment, and perhaps our future state. There we §ee the wretch- 
edness and degradation of a people, who once had the offer of 
liberty, but have trifled it away ; and there we have seen crimes 
so monstrous, that, even after we know they have been perpe- 
trated, they still seem incredil)le. 

If, however, the real people will wake, when their own 
government is in danger ; if like a body of minute-men they 
will rally in its defence, we may long preserve our excellent 
system miimpaared in the degree of its liberty ; we may pre- 
serve every thing but our tranquillity. 

It is however difficult, if not impossible, to excite and main- 
tain as much zeal and ardour in defence of governmient, as 
will animate the jacobins for its subversion ; for to them action 
is ease, to us it is effort : to be at rest costs them more con- 
stmnt, than us to stir. The machinery of our zeal is wrought 
by a feeble and intermitting momentum, and is impeded by its 
own friction ; their rage beats like the pulse of life, and to 
stop it would be mortal. Like the whirlwind it clears away 



98 LAOCOON. 

obstacles, and gathers speed in its progress. Any great exer- 
tion not only tires, but disgusts the federalists : their spirit, 
after flarriing brightly, soon sleeps in its embers ; but the jaco- 
bins, like salamanders, can breathe only in fire. Like toads, 
they suck no aliment from the earth but its poisons. When 
they rest in their lurking places, as they did after the publica- 
tion of the des/iatc/ics, it is, like serpents in -winter, the better 
to concoct their venom ; and when they are in action, it is to 
shed it. Without digressing to make an analysis of the jaco- 
bin character, whether it is envy that sickens at the fame of 
superiours, cupidity that seeks political power for the sake of 
plunder, or ambition that considers plunder as the instrument 
to get power ; whether their characters are formed by the weak 
facility of their faith, or their faith determined by the sour, 
malignant, and suspicious cast of their temperament, yet all 
agree in this one point, all are moved by some fixed prejudice 
or strong passion, some powerful spring of action, so blended 
with self-interest, or self-love, and so exalted into fanaticism, 
that the ordinaiy powers of the man, and the extraordinary 
powers conferred on the enthusiast, are equally devoted to 
their cause of anarchy. Hatred of the government becomes 
a mania, a dementia rjuoad hoc, and their dread of all power but 
their own, resembles the hydrophobia, baffling our attempts to 
describe its natiu'e or its remedies. These are the fanaticks 
wliom the federalists must oppose ; and what in common times 
is to excite their zeal and secure the constancy of their opposi- 
tion \ A sense of duty, which a few men of abstraction Avill 
deduce from just principles, and the foresight of a few more, 
who will be terrified by the tendencies of democracy to anar- 
chy ? But sober duty and a timorous forecast are feeble antag- 
onists against jacobinism ; it is flat tranquillity against passion ; 
dry leaves against the whirlwind ; the weight of gun powder 
against its kindled force. Such federalists may serve as wea- 
thercocks to show how the wind blows, but are no shelter 
against its violence. The quiet citizens may be compared to 
the still water in the lake ; the acobins to that part of it which 
falls over a cataract at its outlet : the former having a thousand 



LAOCOON. 99 

times the greatest mass, but no energy, and scarcejy motion 
enough to keep it sweet ; the latter dashed into foam, and 
scooping deeper channels in the rocks ot adamant. To 
weight we must impart motion ; correct good sense must 
acquire the energy of zeal. A score of absurd cant opinions 
must be scouted, all which tend to make us like the jacobin 
designs a little more, and to dread and abhor their agents a 
little less. Take a specimen of the proselyting iogick : the 
jacobins, they tell us, are many of them honest 7ncn^ but misled. 
Whether they will long remain honest, yet the associates of 
knaves and their fellow workers of iniquity, may be doubted. 
If the invectives against those, who insist on being called 
honest, among the jacobins, are " too harsh and acrimonious" 
to-day, they will by to-morrow, or the next day, be sufficient- 
ly assimilated to the company they keep, and the designs 
they pursue, to merit them : they get a character for life 
only one day too soon. Besides, it is not the character of an 
odd man or two, or at most of half a dozen in a state, that 
happens to have a head too thick to admit, or too hot to yield 
to the principles of the party, that is to denominate the exact 
dark hue of the vice, or the precise measure of infamy that 
belongs of right to the party. Look at France, see jacobin- 
ism at home, where, neither ashamed of its character, nor 
afraid of its punishment, it indulges the unrestrained pro- 
pensities of its nature, and then decide, reader, if you can, 
that the victims of law are a worse set of men than its con- 
querors. 

It must be remembered too, that publick opinion is the great 
auxiliary of good govermnent. Where can its weight full so 
properly as on the conspirators who disturb its tranquillity 
and plot its subversion? The man, who, from passion or 
folly, or bad company, happens to believe, th.;t liberty will 
rise, when government sinks, may be less criminal, but little 
less contemptible for liis sincerity. If a mad man shouid 
poison a spring, because he fancies, that all, who drink and 
die, will go to heaven and be happy, is he to be soothed and 



100 LAOCOOX. 

indulged ? Will you let him have his way ? Ave you not to 
tell tliose who are thirsty, and about to drink the poisonous 
water, that it is death ? Will it be against " candour and 
decency" to tell them, that the man is mad ? The gentle 
criticks on the style of federal writers would have that scorn 
withheld, whicli is almost the only thing that actually re- 
strains the jacobins from mischief; that scorn, which makes 
those who might be misled ashamed to join them. The fac- 
tious have the cunning to say, that the bitterness of their 
spirit is owing to the harsh and acrimonious treatment they 
receive ; as if reproach had made them jacobins ; whereas 
it is jacobinism that extorts reproach. Our government has 
not armies, nor a hierarchy, nor an extensive patronage. In- 
stead of these auxiliaries of other governments, let it have 
the sword of public opinion drawn in its defence, and not only 
drawn but whfitted by satire to an edge to hew its adversaries 
down. Let jacobin vice be seen as a monster, and let not 
a mock candour pity, till we embrace it. Other governments 
may stand, though not very steadily, if publick opinion be only 
neuter : but our system has so little intrinsick energy, that 
this soul of the republick's soul must not only approve, but 
co-operate. The vain, the timid, and trimming must be made 
by examples to see that scorn smites, and blasts, and withers 
like lightning the knaves that mislead them. Then let the 
misled many come off and leave the party if they will ; if not, 
let them club it with them for the infamy. 

A FRAME of government less free and popular might per- 
haps have been left to take some care of itself; but the 
people choose to have it as it is, anR,. therefore, they must 
hot complain of the burden, but com^Jbrward and support 
it ; it has not strength to stand alone without .-such help 
from the wise and honest citizens. The time to do this, is 
at the elections. There, if any where, the sovereignty of 
the citizen is to be exercised ; and there the privilege is open 
to the most excessive and most fiual abuse. 



LAOCOOX. 101 

Here at last the jacobins have taken their post, and here 
they have intrenched themselves to assail our sober and 
orderly liberty. Here we see of late, indeed within a single 
year, an almost total change in the tacticks, and management 
of parties. The jacobins have at last made their own disci- 
pline perfect : they are trained, officered, regimented and 
formed to subordination, in a manner that our militia have 
never yet equalled. Emissaries are sent to every class of men, 
and even to every individual man, that can be gained. Every 
threshing floor, every husking, every party at work on a 
house-frame or raising a building, the very funerals are 
infected with bawle^rs or whisperers against government. In 
one of our towns, it is a fact, that the vote would have been 
unanimous for our worthy chief magistrate ; but a turbulent 
man who kept two great dogs, but could not keep his estate, 
had influence enough to gain five or six votes for the anti- 
candidate : the only complaint he had to urge against the 
governour was, that he had signed the act for the dog tax. 

The extreme industry of this faction shews the extent of 
their designs ; even the town governments are not below 
their scheme of influence. It is plain, that they intend to 
get the state government into their hands. They will make 
the attempt, and if they get only one-fifth jacobin members, 
they will try again next year, never despairing of their final 
success : should they succeed, they would use the power of 
Massachusetts against the laws and government of the United 
States. No longer hoping much aid from the fleets and 
armies of France, which they but lately declared they wished 
to see on our shores ana coast, they rely on themselves. In 
every state they are-*exerting themselves rather more like 
an armed force beating up for recruits, than a sect of politi- 
cal disputants ; and it is as certain as any future event can 
be, that they will take arms against the laws as soon as they 
dare ; probably within a year, if they get the countenance of 
the New-England state governments. They are already in 
arms in Pennsylvania, and Virginia holds forth all possible 



102 LAOCOON. 

encouragement to their rising, l)y resolutions and remon- 
strances calculated to excite civil war, and to infuse into the 
bosoms of the factious all the fury with which such wars are 
Carried on. 

If they would rise and try the issue in the field, they 
would be beaten. Let them then come out; but while they 
depend on lies and industry in spreading them, they will 
beat us. 

They are overmatched by the federalists in argument. 
Every publick question, that has been keenly investigated, 
and sifted by the political writers and debaters on both sides, 
has been clearly decided against them. In the resources of 
money and that sort of credit, which grows out of confidence 
in the virtue and morals of political men, the jacobins are 
weak indeed. The federalists, throughout New-England at 
least, probably pay nineteen shillings in the pound of the 
taxes ; and as to credit^ the chiefs of the party would consi- 
der an inquiry into their title to any as a cruel irony. For 
talents as statesmen the New-England jacobin leaders are 
despicable ; their ignorance of commerce, of finance, and of 
the " diplomatick skill" of France, is not only obvious, but they 
are concerned to urge the last as an excuse, for if they are 
not ignorant they are wicked : it is possible they are both. 
As to talents in the field, on which side do they appear ? The 
reader may be left to look up jacobin generals and heroes. 

With all these undoubted titles to contempt, are the jaco- 
bins to be despised ? Individually, it iiiay be so ; though great 
numbers are rather to be pitied ; but, collectively, they are 
formidable, and a party is never more to be feared than when 
it is despised. Then they are let alone to undermine the 
pillars of the publick order ; then it happens, as at the pre- 
sent moment, that they bestir themselves to get jacobins 
elected into the general court ; and the friends of govern- 
ment, despising their foe, sleep in a dangerous security. 

The jacobins know, that they are as yet weak in force, 
though powerful in lies and low cunning. They will not 



LAOCOON. 1.Q3 

appear in ax'ms at present, for that would make their weak- 
ness the antagonist of our strength. But lies and cunning 
are always formidable at elections : thus they oppose their 
strength to our weakness ; we cannot and will not resort to 
lies. But we can overmatch them when we take the alarm 
in season, and rouse the federal zeal : that zeal has more 
than once saved the country. Now is the time and the occa- 
sion again to disj)lay it, for the faction turns its evil eyes to 
the elections of the house of representatives of the state ; 
and if they obtain even a large minority, they will spread the 
infection with more ardour than even a majority, as minori- 
ties are ever the most industrious and most firmly united. So 
large a mass of poison in the general court, lying in fer- 
mentation for a year, would vitiate and corrupt our political 
health ; and by another year a jacobin majority would appear 
there to overturn, and overturn, and overturn, till property- 
shall take wings, and true liberty and gor.d government find 
their graves. By getting a majority of jacobins into the 
New-England state legislatures, they would make civil war, 
disunion, and perhaps a foreign yoke, the lot of the present 
generation. Friends of virtue, if you will not attend the 
election, and lend to liberty the help of your votes, within 
two years you will have to defend her cause with your 
swords. 



LAOCOON, N*. II. j 

TO some the warmth of the preceding number of Laocoon 
will appear excessive, and to others altogether superfluous : 
excessive, because, they urge, the feelings of the jacobins 
ought to be treated with more tenderness, and their designs 
with more candour ; and sufierfluousj hGc^xxsc the political 
sky is bright and unclouded, promising the long continuance 
of fair weather. The adoption of either ef these opinions 



404 LAOCOOX. 

would have an influence with the writer ; tlic first would 
change his style, the latter impose silence. Faction is an 
adherence to interests foreign to the interests of the state : 
there is such a faction amongst us devoted to France. Fie 
believes that the jacobin faction is composed, like every 
other, of ambitious knaves who mislead, and of a weak and 
infatuated rabble who are misled. Among the latter are 
numbers who set out honesty and, while they continue so, 
they are deserving of some indulgence, and there is some 
hope of reclaiming a verij few of them ; but if they travel 
far on the party road, or associate long with the desperadoes 
in the van, who explore the thorny and crooked by-ways, 
they will not re7nain honest. They will be corrupted, and 
so deeply, that, in every approach towards civil war and 
revolution, the dupes, who sincerely believe the whole creed 
of their party, will be found ready to go the farthest. After 
they have thrown off all political duty, the remains of other 
moral principles, which the /ihilosophers would call the pre- 
judices of education, will be just sufficient to prevent i-emorse, 
or to stifle it. There is a sophistry in all the passions, and 
that of every strong one is almost always convincing. We 
see accordingly that men of some morals, when they run 
politically mad, far from flinching from the debasing com- 
pany of knaves, whom party dubs" patriots., make open pro- 
fession of their monstrous principles, and hardily vindicate 
their most desperate designs. It is a fact, the talk of the 
jacobins, and even their printed threats are to demolish bank 
property and funded debt, and to wreak vengeance on the 
aristocrats, meaning the possessors of property. /How many 
i professors of the christian religion have seen with compla- 
cency, nay with joy and exultation, the downfal of priests, 
and creeds, and churches in France. The unspeakable cru- 
elties and crimes exercised against catholics, they tell us, 
will introduce the true worship, and that they admire, and 
we are bound to approve, proceedings that are so wicked, 
because they ivill be so useful. The sophistry that can thus 



LAOCOON. 105' 

silence consciqpce and varnish crimes, has no less succeeded 
in blinding the understandings of these honest jacobins (so 
called) to the absolute falsehood of their political notions. 
France has confessedly lost liberty, and the spirit and love of 
it, and has become infatuated with the passion for rapine and 
conquest ; yet they still insist, that, though France has not 
liberty at present, she ivill have it. After the revolutionary 
stormj there will be a delightful calm, when reason only will 
be heard, and nothing but the equal rights of man desired or 
regarded : and as to the conquest of other nations, aristocra- 
cies or corruptions of democracy fell in Switzerland, and the 
universal domination of France will multiply republicks and 
demolish thrones. Is the writer to blame, if he feels contempt 
for opinions like these ? If, notwithstanding their absurdity, and 
indeed for the very reason that they are absurd, he sees that, 
they are contagious, and knows that they are dangerous ; if he 
sees their propagators formidable by their zeal, and the more 
formidable for its blindness, digging their mines and laying 
their trains of gun-powder to blow up the temple of liberty, is it 
possible for him to feel contempt in silence, or can he express 
it without a mixture of detestation and abhorrence ?;The party 
who thus labour to destroy all that we have toiled and fought 
for, and sworn to preserve, is surely, collectively speaking, 
the proper object of our considerate indignation ; nor can there 
be any unfitness^ any want of candour, any departure from the 
line of policy, in exhibiting the picture of this party, as it is. 
The inevitable effect of this picture is to excite aversion, scorn, 
and terrour : the fault of rousing these unpleasant emotions, 
in all their strength, is not in the painter, it is in the subject. 
Let the soft seekers of popularity dream of soothing parties 
into moderation. When they see a faction devoted to our 
foreign enemy, putting their all in jeopardy, let them counsel 
us again, as they have often done before, to bestow upon the 
factious all our charity, and more than half our esteem, and 
upon the government that is struggling to preserve us, all our 
jealousy, and as much of our support as we can afford it vith» 
14 



106 LAOCOON. 

out making enemies. Let them compose new homilies for 
hypocrisy, t6 inculcate upon citizens brotherly love towards 
amiiible, fiatriotick traitors, and upon government forbearance 
to maHe or execute laws against inoffaisive conspiracies. But 
let such discourses issue only from the Chronicle. Let all 
but its readers and patrons abstain from censui'ing the asperity, 
with which the jacobins, as a party, are treated. The scorn 
that is poured upon them is the greatest obstacle they encoun- 
ter in their more than Jesuit labours of making converts to 
jacobinism ; and the dread and abhorrence, in which the party 
and their schemes are held, is the chief auxiliary of good 
governwieiit in preventing their success. It is the squeamish- 
ness, the trimming, half-way, selfish spirit of too many federal- 
ists that keeps the faction encouraged to prosecute its pestilent 
designs. The British nation is now united as one man, and 
the force of publick opmion is combined, the voice of the 
real nation is heard, and faction is of consequence in the mire 
of contempt. Till our spirit is in like manner roused, all 
things will seem to be possible to party, and therefore all evil 
things will be attempted. If we allow ourselves to hope any 
respite from the assaults of the French faction, it is by animat- 
ing the zeal of the friends of virtue and government, and 
persuading them to come forth and to speak out, and thus 
we shall discourage and disarm the factious : their affected 
moderation must not rob the cause of half its support. It is 
indeed evident, that the spirit of the friends of order is at all 
times weak, excepthig only when the danger is so near and 
obvioiis as to rouse an universal alarm and a common exertion. 
A correct vieAv of the character of jacobinism, if once clearly 
taken and profoundly impressed upon the publick, would keep 
those well grounded apprehensions constantly awake, which in 
effect are the guardians of our political safety. 

I WILL not thex'efore admit, that the task of delineating the 
true character of the deluded mass of the jacobins is unneces- 
sary, or that by adhering to truth there will be a deviation from 
urbanity and candour. I will raise my feeble voice to expose 



LAOCOON. 107 

the frailtf of those hopes, which too many repose on the honesty 
of the factious, and which incline them to behold the despei*a- 
tion of their measures without much fear, because they trust 
that the individuals of the party will flinch as soon as things 
approach towards extremities. This trust is a vain one. I 
am as ready as others to make excuses for the deluded of all 
parties. Of all the causes of seduction from virtue, perhaps, 
none is so powerful as the fellowship of party. But what 
then ? Are we still to maintain that party men are honesty when 
they have been long exposed to an influence, which we know is 
almost irresistibly corrupting ? We may, and we ought, on this 
account, the more deeply to deplore the ravages of the spirit 
of faction upon morals and the sentiments of humanity. We 
are not, however, to deny the fact, and insist upon reposing 
our confidence in the correct moral discernment of men, 
whom we know to be deluded, nor in the restraints of shame 
and principle upon tliose minds, which have already overcome 
the shame of their principles and their associates. We may 
be sure, that more than half the utmost corrupting work of 
political vice is already done, and that the reputed honest men 
of the faction have either renounced their old pi-inciples, or 
dismissed them as the guides of their conduct. It is a cruel 
mercy, that would spare the party, because some of the indi- 
viduals mean well. The plain truth ehould be told ; it may 
alarm a few, and save them from being traitors. 

Some labour to exhibit a brief analysis will be proper, as it 
will tend to excite federalists to a sense of their actual danger, 
and disarm the host of trimmers and political hypocrites of a 
topick which they never fail to urge upon our politeness and 
good nature, whenever they would abate the scorn that is 
thrown upon one party, or quench the sparks of that zeal which 
is too rarely excited in the other. 

Supposing the honest among the jacobins to possess the 
ordinaiy degrees of self-knowledge, on looking inward they 
will find there a consciousness of some moral principle, of 
some integrity of heart. This will make them less distrustful 



lOS LAOCOON. 

of themselves, less apprehensive of the reproaches of others- ;■ 
and having adopted erroneous political maxims, they will 
pursue their dark mazes with a fearless step. The ill conse- 
quences, though natural, not being foreseen, will seem to 
proceed from accident, and only stimulate their perseverance, 
or to be owing to the malice of the concealed aristocrats, and 
inflame with a ten-fold heat the rancour of their hostility. 
What was errour becomes passion. The honest man thinks, 
that he is summoned to the combat: the casviistry of a jaco- 
bin conscience spreads a mist before his eyes, which he thinks 
renders him invisible ; obstinacy cases him in mail ; French 
humanity puts a dagger into one hand, and party zeal, calling 
itself patriotism, a fire brand into the other. Thus the honest 
jacobin, equally misled by what he knows, and by the nature 
of his own principles and their tendencies, goes forth to assist 
knaves in what he deems the cause of virtue. He has so 
many excuses in the good motives, which he is sure he does 
feel, and in the happy consequences, which he thinks he cer- 
tainly does foresee, that he makes haste to spread ruin without 
compunction, and to perpetrate crimes without remorse. Every 
intelligent politician knows, that, in all paily affairs, the un- 
thinking dupes and honest fools are the rashest. The crimes 
they CcUi excuse, and even persuade themselves to call virtues, 
they do not blush to commit. lUiey are not afraid of shame, 
because they adopt the creed of their teachers, and glory in it. 
They dance on the edge of a precipice, and think it a firm 
plain all round their feet. They foresee but little, and dread 
little of what they foresee. Little deterred by unforeseen 
danger, and strongly alku'ed by imaginary good, that will be 
the sure reward of their patriot labours, if successful, the duty 
to struggle for that success appears to be superiour to every 
other. The best institutions, the great safeguards of order, 
seem to them abuses : government is an obstacle, and must be 
removed ; magistrates are enemies, and must be conquered. 
They at last make conscience of committing the m.ost shock- 
ing atrocities, and learn to throw their eyes beyond the gulph 



LAOCOON. 109 

of revolution, confusion, and civil war, which yawns at their 
feet, to behold an Eden of primitive innocence, equality, and 
liberty in blossom on the other side. There these tigers of 
revolution, their leaders, are to lie down with the lamb-like 
multitude, sometimes suffering hungei", yet forbearing to eat 
them. The rights of man are to be established by being 
solemnly proclaimed, and printed, so that every citizen shall 
have a copy. Avarice, ambition, revenge, and I'age will be 
disenchanted from all hearts, and die there ; man will be re- 
generated ; by slaying half a million only once, four millions 
will be born twice, and the glorious work of that perfectibility 
of the species, foretold by Condorcet and the Mazzei sect i:i 
America, will begin. 

The knaves, however, who lead this infatuated honest multi- 
tude, indulge no such extravagant delusions. They have no 
faith in this splendid hereafter, this happy future state for 
jacobins in this world. They have as little taste for it. They 
propose other rewards for their patriotick virtue, than this 
heaven of metaphysicks has laid up for them. Turning to their 
own base hearts, they shrink from themselves, and are more 
likely to feel remorse, than their honest disciples ; they are 
conscious, that they ought to be suspected, and they act with 
the caution that this consciousness inevitably inspires ; their 
dupes act with a fervour, and rage, and thirst for innovation, 
which render the prospects of all possible confusion insufficient 
to satisfy thejn. The cold thinking villains who lead, " whose 
" black blood runs temperately bad," desire on the contrary no 
more confusion than just enough to answer their own ends : 
their ambition would naturally desire to preserve the powers 
of government to usurp them, and their rapacity would spare 
the wealth of the state to plunder it. A fresh set would 
indeed succeed, as in France, and rob the first despoilers, till 
the state, successively a prey, would be reduced to beggary 
and ruin. It is seldom that the leaders of revolutions have 
much profited by them ; and this shews the shortsightedness 
even of their policy, and that, as it relates to their ovin personal 



110 LAOCOON. 

advantage, they are nearly as much deluded as their dupes. 
But the possession of the sovereign power, however precai'ious, 
is too great a temptation for their prudence to withstand. 
Accordingly we see, tliat for such a prize competitors arc 
never wanting ; and they struggle for the imperial purple with 
as much ardour and fierceness, as if it were not wet and drop- 
ping with the blood of its last usurper. Robespierre's fall 
incited more pretenders than it intimidated. 

It Avill be objected, that this open avowal of contempt and 
detestation of the jacobins, and this unreserved exhortation to 
all friends of government to inculcate these sentiments, can 
only exasperate party animosities and augment their mutual 
virulence. I ask in reply, would my silence, or the most sooth- 
ing style of address I could choose, prevent or compose these 
animosities ? Is it in the nature of free governments to exist 
without parties ? Such a thing has never yet been and probably 
never will be. Is it in the nature of party to exist without 
passion ? or of passion to acquiesce, when it meets with opposers 
and obstacles ? Is it owing, do the vapid declaimers really think 
in good faith, to the intemperance or indisci'etion of federal 
writers, that jacobins are restless and malignant ? or that, by 
changing epithets or lavishing lying praises on their honesty^ 
they would change their nature and I'enounce their designs ? 
No, it is absurd to expect faction cold in the pursuit of great 
objects, reasonable in selecting means for gratifying inordinate 
designs, retarded by moral doubts and perplexities, when 
led by philosophers.^ soft to persuade, when it is callous to 
pity, and fearless of consequences. Party moderation is chil- 
dren's talk. Who has ever seen faction calmly in a rage ? 
Who will expect to see that carnivorous monster quietly sub- 
mit to eat grass ? 

The criticks on this performance may be assured, there- 
fore, that, if no good is done by it, it will not do the mischief 
they apprehend. Parties will hate each other a little less for 
mutual plain dealing and freedom of speech ; for they never 



LAOCOON. Ill 

hate with more inveteracy than when they condescend to sooth 
and to flatter. 

There are some who will admit, that the spirit of party is 
virulent, and its principle and designs utterly profligate, who 
will nevertheless scruple to say, that the present state of affairs 
is such as to demand an alarming appeal to the patriotism of 
the citizens. France, our dangerous foe, they will tell us, is 
baffled and detected in her arts, and deprived by the victories of 
the English navy of her arms ; that all fear of invasion may be 
dismissed ; and even if a few thousand negroes should be 
landed from Guadaloupe, the citizens would rally round the 
standard of lawful government, and crush the invaders ; that 
the rebellion in Pennsylvania is feeble in force, and cowardly in 
spirit ; that the government never before had suck power of 
arms, of credit, of treasure, and what is more than arms and 
treasure, of duty and affection in the hearts of all good citizens ; 
that it appears the fairer, for having been falsely accused ; that 
its friends have more zeal and confidence than ever, and the 
jacobins now feel their own weakness, and know, that they can 
depend little on themselves, and none at all on France. This 
is, therefore, they will insist, a time foi' exultation, not of alarm ; 
a time tranquilly to enjoy the blessings of our fixe constitution, 
not to suffer anxiety, and to mount guard, as heretofore, for its 
defence. These are pleasing illusions, but they are illusions. 

When we look at Europe, and contemplate its political 
state, we seem to be treading on the crater of a half-extinguished 
volcano. Here, scarcely cool from their fusion, are the cin- 
ders of one republick, and there still smoke the brands of 
another. On this side see a little Italian state beginning to 
belch revolutionary fires ; on that another lies like a little 
mount on the great French volcano, a jumbled mass of lava 
and ruins. Can we think there is a decree for the immortal- 
ity of our republick, when every gazette from Europe is black- 
ened with the epitaphs of nations once independent, now no 
more. Lately they had life and being ; now they lie like little 
mangled birds to digest in the French tiger's maw. One 



113 LAOCOON- 

nation alone resists these new Romans, and prevents the estab-^ 
lishment of a universal domination, and a despotism over the 
whole civilized world. Surely, if we contemplate only external 
danger, this is no time for secui'ity and presumptuous confi- 
dence. That single nation, though magnanimous, though pow- 
erful in wealth as well as spirit, may grow weary of standing 
in the gap, or, possibly, may imitate the wretched policy of the 
emperour, and, in compensation for a respite to the strong foes 
of France, may permit her to finish the conquest of her weak 
ones. The power of France, though checked at sea, is still 
gigantick, far exceeding that of the Roman empire in the days 
of Trajan ; and, before the end of the year, she will probably 
incorporate all Italy, Spain, and Portugal, with her vast terri- 
tory, which takes the Rhine for a boundary, and includes Hol- 
land. It is more than a thousand years, since the world has 
seen a power any thing near so ovei'whelming and terrifick as 
that of Fi'ance. Dreadful as her force is, her arts are still mox'e 
dreadful, and here our danger lies. 

A FACTION, whose union is perfect, whose spirit is des- 
perate, addressing something persuasive to every prejudice, 
putting something combustible to every passion, granting 
some indulgence to eveiy vice, promising those who dread the 
law to set them above it, to the mean whispering suspicion, 
to the ambitious offering power, to the rapacious, plunder, to 
the violent, revenge, to the envious, the abasement of all that 
is venerable, to innovators, the transmutation of all that is 
established, grouping together all that is folly, vice, and pas- 
sion in the state, and forming of these vile materials another 
state, an imjierium in imperio — ^Behold this is our concUtion, 
these our terrours. And what are the resources for our safety ? 

They all exist in the energy and correctness of the publick 
opinion. A thousand proofs exist, but the fact is so notorious 
it is needless to vouch them, to show, that our government has 
been, and is supported only by the appeal to the virtue, zeal, 
and patriotism of the body of the citizens. Genet assumed 
upon Iwmself tlie powers of a sovereign, and exercised them 



LAOCOON. 113 

lOo, till the government cried out for help to the people, and 
they came to help in season. The treaty contest stopped the 
Avheels of government for a time ; and the effective sovereignty 
was first actually assumed and exercised by the town meetings, 
and then divided between the executive and senate on one side, 
who adhered to the treaty, and the house Avho shewed a dispo- 
sition to annul it. This was an instance of the government 
being near its death, by the benumbing stroke of a factious 
apoplexy, without a resort to arms, without taking the sense 
of the people. But again in that case, the real people took 
the alarm, and saved the country from the terrible convulsions, 
which never fail to ensue, when the political house is divided 
against itself. With less intelligence of the citizens, or a fort- 
night's less speed in rallying, all would then have been lost. 

When the instances are so recent, that the pulse of alarm 
has scarcely yet ceased to flutter, will any man of common sense 
pretend to say, that our government stands unshaken upon a 
foundation of rock ? that the sounds of alarm are counterfeit 
or imaginaiy ? that faction is impotent and contemptible ? 

No nation can rely on the sufficiently clear and early political 
discernment of its citizens, to discover and repel the danger to 
its liberty and independence : they may discover their danger 
too late, as all the people of the fallen European states did : 
they may mistake too, and think, as the Swiss did, that it is 
safer to trust the foe than to resist him. Opinion is every 
where fickle, and our political situation is awkward and unpre- 
cedented ; hard noiv to change, impossible to maintain a strange 
middle state, not easy to be understood or approved. It is 
peace without tranquillity ; it is war without action : it is peace, 
yet it is dangerous ; it is war, yet it deadens all the fervours 
of patriotism, all the energies of valour : it is peace so far only, 
as to lay our bosoms bare to the poisoned darts of our foe, 
and to the hostility of his ally, our intestine faction ; it is war 
to eveiy extent, that can expose us to alarm, to depredation, 
and to expense. Such a state cannot be maintained longer 
than just to afibrd'^to the nation some few months to decide, 
which. they will prefer, a foreign or a civil war. 
15 



114 LAOCOON. 

The malady of a foreign faction has grown inveterate by 
time and by palliatives ; it has burrowed deep in the flesh, and 
mingled a corrosive lymph with the marrow of the bones. 
Every common observer may be sure it is approaching a vio- 
lent crisis. The jacobins have been every where in movement, 
preparing every engine of power and inflvience, to transfer the 
country, its liberty, and property, at the next election of presi- 
dent and vice-president, into the hands of men equally destitute 
of private virtue and of publick spirit. 

At this day, so fatal to the independence of free states, 
the sound of alarm ought not to surprise, it should animate. 
Republican liberty is held by the tenure of continuing worthy 
to hold it : we have to choose between the burden of its 
duties and its destiny. It has ever been deemed the Hespe- 
rian fruit, but since the days of fable it was never yet guarded 
by dragons. Why then will any one reprove the writer for 
attempting to rouse the vigilance of the citizens ? It is for 
them as a body, and individually, to form a lifeguard to pro- 
tect it from assassination'. 



C 113 ] 



EULOGY ON WASHINGTON. 

DELIVERED, AT THE RE<^UEST OE THE LEGISLATURE OF MASSA- 
CHUSETTS, FEB. 8, 1800. 



I 



T is natural that the gratitude of mankind should be drawn 
to their benefactors. A number of these have successively 
arisen, who were no less distinguished for the elevation of 
their virtues, than the lustre of their talents. Of those, how- 
ever, who were born, and who acted, through life, as if they 
were born, not for themselves, but for their countiy and 
the whole human race, how few, alas ! are recorded in the 
long annals of ages, and how wide the intervals of time and 
space that divide them. In all this dreary length of way, they 
appear like five or six light houses on as many thousand miles 
of coast : they gleam upon the surrounding darkness, with an 
inextinguishable splendour, like stars seen through a mistj 
but they are seen like stars, to cheer, to guide, and to save. 
Washington is now added to that small number. Already 
he attracts curiosity, like a newly discovered stai', whose 
benignant light will travel on to the world's and time's farthest 
bounds. Already his name is hung up by history as con- 
spicuously, as if it sparkled in one of the constellations of the 
sky. 

By commemorating his death, we are called this day to 
yield the homage that is due to virtue ; to confess the com- 
mon debt of mankind as well as our own ; and to pronounce 
for posterity, now dumb, that elogium, which they will dcUght 
to echo ten ages hence, when we are dumb. 

I CONSIDER myself not merely in the midst of the citizens 
of this town, or even of the state In idea, I gather round me 
the nation. In the vast and venerable congregation of the 
patriots of all countries and of all enlightened men, I would, 
if I could, raise my voice, and speak to mankind in a strain 



116 EULOGY ON 

worthy of my audience, and as elevated as my subject. But 
you have assigned me a task that is impossible. 

O IF I could perform it, if I could illustrate his principles 
in my discourse as he displayed them in his life, if I could 
paint his virtues as he practised them, if I could convert the 
fervid enthusiasm of my heart into the talent to transmit his 
fame, as it ought to pass, to posterity, I should be the success- 
ful organ of your -will, the minister of his virtues, and may I 
dare to say, the humble partaker of his immortal gloiy. These 
are ambitious, deceiving hopes, and I reject them ; for it is, 
perhaps, almost as difficult, at once with judgment and feeling, 
to praise great actions, as to perform them. A lavish and 
imdistinguishing elogium is not praise ; and to discriminate 
such excellent qualities as were characteristick and peculiar 
to him, would J)e to raise a name, as he raised it, above envy, 
above parallel, perhaps, for that very reason, above emulation. 

Such a portraying of character, hoAvever, must be address- 
ed to the understanding, and, therefore, even if it were well 
executed, would seem to be rather an analysis of moral prin- 
ciples, than the recital of a hero's exploits. 

With whatever fidelity I might execute this task, I know 
that some would prefer a picture drawn to the imagination. 
They would have our Washington represented of a giant's 
size, and in the character of a hero of romance. They who 
love to wonder better than to reason, would not be satisfied 
with the contemplation of a great example, unless, in the 
exhibition, it should be so distorted into prodigy, as to be both 
incredible and useless. Others, I hope but few, who think 
mieanly of human nature, will deem it incredible, tjiat even 
Washington should think with as much dignity and elevation 
as he acted ; and they will grovel in vain in the search for 
mean and selfish motives, that could incite and sustain him to 
devote his life to his country. 

Do not these suggestions sound in yo«r ears like a profana- 
tion of virtue ? and, while I pronounce them, do you not feel 
a thi'ill of indignation at your hearts ? Forbear. Time never 
fails to bring every exalted reputation to a strict scrutiny : the 



WASHINGTON. 117 

world, in passing the judgment that is never to be reversed, 
will deny all partiality even to the name of Washington. 
Let it be denied, for its justice will confer glory. 

Such a life as Washington's cannot derive honour from 
the circumstances of birth and education, though it throws 
back a lustre upon both. With an inquisitive mind, that 
always profited by the lights of others, and was unclouded by 
passions of its own, he acquired a maturity of judgment, rare 
in age, unparalleled in youth. Perhaps no young man had 
so early laid up a life's stock of materials for solid reflection, 
or settled so soon the principles and habits of his conduct. 
Gray experience listened to his counsels with respect, and, at 
a time when youth is almost privileged to be rash, Virginia 
committed the safety of her frontier, and, ultimately, the safety 
of Amei'ica, not merely to his valour, for that would be scarcely 
praise, but to. his prudence. 

It is not in- Indian wars that heroes are celebrated ; but it 
is there they are formed. No enemy can be more formidable, 
by the craft of his ambushes, the suddenness of his onset, or 
the ferocity of his vengeance. The soul of Washington was 
thus exercised to danger ; and, on the first trial, as on eveiy 
other, it appeared firm in adversity, cool in action, undaunted, 
self-possessed. His spirit, and still more his prudence, on the 
occasion of Braddock's defeat, diffused his name throughout 
America, and across the Atlantick. Even then his country 
viewed him with complacency, as her most hopeful son. 

At the peace of 1763, Great Britain, in consequence of her 
victories, stood in a position to prescribe her own terms. She 
chose, perhaps, better for us than for herself: for by expelling 
the French from Canada, we no longer feared hostile neigh- 
bours ; and we soon found just cause to be afraid of our pro- 
tectors. We discerned, even then, a truth, which the conduct 
of France has since so strongly confirmed, that there is nothing 
which the gratitude of weak states can give, that will satisfy 
strong allies for their aid, but authority : nations that want 
protectors, will have masters. Our settlements, no longer 
checked by enemies on the frontier, rapidly increased ; and it 



118 EULOGY ON 

was discovered, that America was growing to a size that could 
defend itself. 

In this, perhaps unforeseen, but at length obvious state of 
things, the British government conceived a jealousy of the 
colonies, of which, and of their intended measures of precau- 
Uon, they made no secret. 

Our nation, like its great leader, had only to take counsel 
from its courage. When Washington heard the voice of 
his country in distress, his obedience was prompt ; and though 
his sacrifices Avere great, they cost him no effort. Neither 
the object, nor the limits of my plan, permit me to dilate on 
the military events of the revolutionary war. Our history is 
but a transcript of his claims on our gratitude : our hearts 
bear testimony, that they are claims not to be satisfied. When 
overmatched by numbers, a fugitive with a little band of 
faithful soldiers, the states as much exliausted as dismayed, 
he explored his own undaunted heart, and found there re- 
sources to retrieve om* affairs. We have seen him display as 
much valour as gives fame to heroes, and as consummate pru- 
dence as ensures success to valour ; fearless of dangers that 
were personal to him, hesitating and cautious, when they 
aifected his country ; preferring fame before safety or repose, 
and duty before fame. 

Rome did not owe more to Fabius, than America to Wash- 
ington. Our nation shades with him the singular glory of 
having conducted a civil war with mildness, and a revolution 
with order. 

The event of that war seemed to crown the felicity and 
glory both of America and its chief. Untjl that contest, a 
gi'eat part of the civilized world had been surprisingly igno- 
I'ant of the force and character, and almost of the existence, 
of the British colonies. They had not retained what they 
];new, nor felt curiosity to know the state of thirteen wretched 
settlements, which vast woods enclosed, and still vaster woods 
divided from each other. They did not view the colonists so 
-much a people, as a race of fugitives, whom want, and soli- 
iude, and intermixture with the savages, had made barbarian's. 



WASHlJfGTON. 119 

At this time, while Great Britain Avielded a force ti'uly 
formidable to the most powerful states, suddenly, astonished 
Europe beheld a feeble people, till then unknoAvn, stand forth, 
and defy this giant to the combat. It was so unequal, all 
expected it would be short. Our final success exalted their 
admiration to its highest point : they allowed to Washington 
all that is due to transcendent virtue, and to the Americans 
more than is due to human nature. They considered us a 
race of Washingtons, and admitted that nature in America 
was fruitful only in prodigies. Their books and their travel- 
lers, exaggerating and distorting all their representations, as- 
sisted to establish the opinion, that this is a new world, with 
a ncAv order of men and things adapted to it ; that here we 
practise industry, amidst the abundance that ref|uires none ; 
that we have morals so refined, that we do not need laws ; and 
though we have them, yet we ought to consider their execu- 
tion as an insult and a wrong ; that we have virtue without 
weaknesses, sentiment without passions, and liberty without 
factions. These illusions, in spite of their absurdity, and, per- 
haps, because they are absurd enough to have dominion over 
the imagipation only, have been received by mtiny of the male- 
contents against the governments of Europe, and induced them 
to emigrate. Such illusions are too soothing to vanity to be 
entirely checked in their currency among Americans. 

They have been pernicious, as they cherish false ideas of 
the rights of men and the duties of inilers. They have led the 
citizens to look for liberty, where it is not ; and to consider 
the government, Avhich is its castle, as its prison. 

Washington retired to Mount Vernon, and the eyes of the 
world followed him. He left his countrymen to their simpli- 
city and their passions, and their glory soon departed. Europe 
began to be undeceived, and it seemed, for a time, as if, by the 
acquisition of independence, our citizens were disappointed. 
The confederation was then the only compact made " to forn^ 
" a perfect union of the states, to establish justice, to ensure tlie 
" tranquillity, and provide for the security, of the nation ;" and, 
accordingly, union Avas a name that still commanded reverence. 



120 EULOGY ON 

though not obedience. The system called justice was, in 
some of the states, iniquity reduced to elementary principles ; 
and the publick tranquillity was such a portentous calm, as 
rings in deep caverns before the explosion of an earthquake. 
Most of the states then were in fact, though not in form, 
unbalanced democracies. Reason, it is true, spoke audibly in 
their constitutions ; passion and prejudice louder in their laws. 
It is to the honour of Massachusetts, that it is chargeable with 
little deviation from principles : its adherence to tnem was 
one of the causes of a dangerous rebellion. It was scarcely 
possible that such governments should not be agitated by par- 
ties, and that prevailing parties should not be vindictive and 
unjust. Accordingly, in some of the states, creditors were treat- 
ed as outlaws ; bankrupts were armed with legal authority to be 
persecutors ; and, by the shock of all confidence and faith, 
society was shaken to its foundations. Liberty we had, but we 
dreaded its abuse almost as much as its loss ; and the wise, who 
deplored the one, clearly foresaw the other. 

'he peace of America hvmg by a thread, and factions were 
already sharpening their weapons to cut it. The project of 
three separate empires in America was beginning to be broach- 
ed, and the progress of licentiousness Avould have soon rettder- 
ed her citizens mifit for liberty in either of them. An agfeof 
blood and misery would have punished our disunion : but these 
were not the considerations to deter ambition from its purpose, 
while there were so many circumstances in our political situa- 
tion to favour it. 

At this awful crisis, which all the wise so much dreaded at 
the time, yet which appears, on a retrospect, so much more 
dreadful than their fears ; some man was wanting who possess- 
ed a commanding power over the popular passions, but over 
Avhom those passions had no power. That man was Wash- 
ington. 

His name, at the head of such a list of worthies as would 
reflect honour on any country, had its proper weight with all 
the enlightened, and with almost all the well disposed among 
the less informed citizens, and, blessed be God ! the constitu- 



$ 



WASHINGTON. 121 

tion was adopted. Yes, to the eternal honour of America 
among the nations of the earth, it was adopted, in spite of the 
obstacles, which, in any other country, and, perhaps, in any 
other age of this., Avould have been insurmountable ; in spite of 
the doubts and fears, which well-meaning prejudice creates 
for itself, and which party so artfully inflames into stubborn- 
ness ; in spite of the vice, which it has subjected to restraint, 
and which is therefore its immortal and implacable foe ; in 
spite of the oligarchies in some of the states, from whom it 
snatched dominion ; it was adopted, and our country enjoys 
one more invaluable chance for its union and happiness : 
invaluable ! if the retrospect of the dangers we have escaped 
shall sufficiently inculcate the principles we have so tardily 
established. Perhaps multitudes are not to be taught by their 
fears only, without suffering much to deepen the impression ; 
for experience brandishes in her school a whip of scorpions, 
and teaches nations her summary lessons of wisdom by the 
scars and wounds of their adversity. 

The amendments which have been projected in some of 
the states shew, that, in them at least, these lessons are not 
well remembered. In a confederacy of states, some power- 
ful, others weak, the weakness of the federal union will, sooner 
or later, encourage, and will not restrain, the ambition and 
injustice of the members : the weak can no otherwise be 
strong or safe, but in the energy of the national government. 
It is this defect, which the blind jealousy of the weak states 
not unfrequently contributes to prolong, that has proved fatal 
to all the confederations that ever existed. 

Although it was impossible that such merit as Wash- 
ington's should not produce envy, it was scarcely possible 
that, with such a transcendent reputation, he should have rivals. 
Accordingly, he was unanimously chosen president of the 
United States. 

As a general and a patriot, the measure of his gloiy was 
already full : there was no fame left for him to excel but his 
ovm ; and even that task, the mightiest of all his labours, his 
civil magistracy has accomplished. 
16 



122 EULOGY OX 

No sooner did the new government begin its auspicious 
course, than order seemed to arise out of confusion. Com- 
merce and industry awoke, and were cheerful at their labours ; 
for credit and confidence awoke with them. Every where was 
the appearance of prosperity ; and the only fear was, that its 
progress was too rapid to consist with the purity and simpli- 
city of ancient manners. The cares and labours of the president 
were incessant : his exhortations, example, and authority, were 
employed to excite zeal and activity for the publick service : 
able officers were selected, only for their merits ; and some of 
them remarkably distinguished themselves by their successful 
management of the publick business. Government was admin- 
istered with such integrity, without mystery, and in so pros- 
perous a course, that it seemed to be wholly employed in acts 
of beneficence. Though it has made many thousand malecon- 
tents, it has never, by its rigour or injustice, made one man 
wretched. 

.Such was the state of publick affairs : and did it not seem 
perfectly to ensure uninterrupted harmony to the citizens ? Did 
they not, in respect to their government and its administration, 
possess their whole heai't's desire I They had seen and suffer- 
ed long the want of an efficient constitution ; they had freely 
ratified it ; they saw Washington, their tried friend, the 
father of his country, invested with its powers : they knew 
that he could not exceed or betray them, without forfeiting his 
own reputation. Consider, for a moment, what a reputation it 
was : such as no nvan ever before possessed by so clear a title, 
and in so high a degree. His fame seemed in its purity to 
exceed even its brightness : office took honour from his accept- 
ance, but conferred none. Ambition stood awed and darkened 
by his shadow. For where, through the wide earth, was the 
man so vain as to dispute precedence with him ; or what were 
the honours that could make the possessor Washington's 
supei'iour ? Refined and complex as the ideas of virtue are, 
even the gross could discern in his life the mfinite superiority 
of her rewards. Mankind perceived some change in their 



WASHINGTOX. 123 

ideas of greatness : the splendour of power, and even of the 
name of conqueror, had grown dim in tlieir eyes. They did 
not know that Washington could augment his fame ; but 
they knew and felt, that the world's wealth, and its empire too, 
would be a bribe far beneath his acceptance. 

This is not exaggeration : never was confidence in a man 
and a chief magistrate more widely diffused, or more solidly 
established. 

If it had been in the nature of man, that we should enjoy 
liberty, without the agitations of party, the United States had 
3L right, under these circumstances, to expect it : but it was 
impossible. Where there is no liberty, they may be exempt 
from party. It will seem strange, but it scarcely admits a 
doubt, that there are fewer malecontents in Turkey, than in 
any free state in the world. W^here the people have no power, 
they enter into no contests, and are not anxious to know how 
they shall use it. The spirit of discontent becomes torpid for 
want of employment, and sighs itself to rest. The people 
sleep soundly in their chains, and do not even dream of their 
weight. They lose their turbulence with their energy, and 
become as tractable as any other animals : a state of degrada- 
tion, in which they extort our scorn, and engage our pity, for 
the misery they do not feel. Yet that heart is a base one, and 
fit only for a slave's bosom, that would not bleed freely, rather 
than submit to such a condition ; for liberty with all its parties 
and agitations is more desirable than slavery. Who would not 
prefer the republicks of ancient Greece, where liberty once 
subsisted in its excess, its delirium, terrible in its charms, and 
glistening to the last with the blaze of the very fire that con- 
sumed it ? 

I DO not know that I ought, but I am sure that I do, prefer 
those republicks to the dozing slavery of the modern Greece, 
where the degraded wretches have suffered scorn till they 
merit it, where they tread on classick ground, on the ashes of 
heroes and patriots, unconscious of their ancestry, ignorant of 
the nature, and jdmost of the name of liberty, and insensible 



124 EULOGY ON 

even to the passion for it. Who, on this contrast, can forbear 
to say, it is the modem Greece that lies buried, that sleeps 
forgotten in the caves of Turkish darkness ? It is the ancient 
Greece that Uves in remembrance, that is still bright with 
glory, still fresh in immortal youth. They are unworthy of 
liberty, who entertain a less exalted idea of its excellence. 
The misfortune is, that those who profess to be its most pas- 
sionate admirers have, generally, the least comprehension of 
its hazards and impediments : they expect, that an enthusiastick 
admiration of its nature will reconcile the multitude to the irk- 
someness of its restraints. Delusive expectation! Washing- 
ton was not thus deluded. We have his solemn warning 
aguinst the often fatal propensities of liberty. He had reflected, 
that men are often false to their country and their honour, false 
to duty and even to their interest, but multitudes of men are 
never long false or deaf to their passions : these will find ob- 
stacles in the laws, associates in party. The fellowships thus 
formed are more intimate, and impose cominands more im- 
perious, than those of society. 

Thus party forms a state within the state, and is animated 
by a rivalship, fear, and hatred, of its superiour. When this 
happens, the merits of the government will become fresh pro- 
vocations and offences, for they are the merits of an enemy. 
No wonder then, that as soon as party found the virtue 
and glory of Washington were obstacles, the attempt was 
made, by calumny, to surmount them both. For this, the 
greatest of all his trials, we know that he was prepared. He 
knew, that the government must possess sufficient strength 
from within or without, or fall a victim to faction. This in- 
teriour strensi,th was plainly inadequate to its defence, unless it 
could be reinforced fi-otti ivithout by the zeal and patriotism of 
the citizens ; and this latter resource was certainly as accessi- 
ble to president Washington, as to any chief magistrate that 
ever lived. The life of the federal government, he considered, 
was in the breath of the people's nostrils : whenever they 
should happen to be so infatuated or inflamed as to abandon its 



WASHINGTON. 125 

defence, its end must be as speedy, and might be as tragical, 
as a constitution for France. 

While the president was thus administering the govern- 
ment in so wise and just a manner, as to engage the great 
majority of the enlightened and virtuous citizens to co-operate 
with him for its support, and while he indulged the hope that 
time and habit wei-e confirming their attachment, the French 
revolution had reached that point in its progress, when its 
terrible principles began to agitate all civilized nations. I will 
not, on this occasion, detain you to express, though my thoughts 
teem with it, my deep abhoiTence of that revolution ; its des- 
potism, by the mob or the military, from the first, and its 
hypocrisy of morals to tlie last. Scenes have passed there 
which exceed description, and which, for other reasons, I will 
not attempt to describe ; for it would nols be possible, even at 
this distance of time, and with the sea between us and France, 
to go through with the recital of them, without perceiving 
horrour gather, like a frost, about the heart, and almost stop its 
pulse. That revolution has been constant in nothing but its 
vicissitudes, and its promises ; always delusive, but alwi.ys re- 
newed, to establish philosophy by crimes, and liberty by the 
sword. The people of France, if they are not like the modern 
Greeks, find their cap of liberty is a soldier's helmet : and with 
all their imitation of dictators and consuls, their exactest simi- 
litude to these Roman ornaments, is in their chains. The 
nations of Europe perceive another resemblance, in their all- 
conquering ambition. 

But it is only the influence of that event on America, and 
on the measures of the president, that belongs to my subject. 
It would be ingratefully wrong to his character, to be silent in 
respect to a part of it, which has the most signally illustrated 
his virtues. 

The genuine character of that revolution is not even yet so 
well understood, as the dictates of self-preservation require it 
should be. The chief duty and care of all governments is to 
protect the rights of property, and the tranquillity of society. 



126 EULOGY ON 

The leaders of the French revolution, from the beginning, 
excited the poor against the rich. This has made the rich poor, 
but it will never make the poor rich. On the contrary, they 
were used only as bFmd instruments to make those leaders 
masters, first of the adverse party, and then of the state. Thus 
the powei-s of the state were tui-ned round into a direction 
exactly contrary to the proper one, not to preserve tranquillity 
and restrain violence, but to excite violence by the lure of 
power, and plunder, and vengeance. Thus all France has been, 
and still is, as much the prize of the ruling party, as a captured 
ship, and if any right or possession has escaped confiscation, 
there is none that has not been liable to it. 

Thus it clearly appears, that, in its origin, its character, and 
its means, the government of that country is revolutionaiy ; 
that is, not only different from, but directly contrary to, every 
regular and well-ordered society. It is a danger, similar in its 
kind, and at least equal in degree, to that, with which ancient 
Rome menaced her enemies. The allies of Rome were slaves ; 
and it cost some hundred years efforts of her policy and arms, 
to make her enemies her allies. Nations, at this day, can trust 
no better to treaties ; they cannot even trust to arms, unless 
they are used with a spirit and perseverance becoming the 
magnitude of their danger. For the Frencli revolution has 
been, from the first, hostile to all right and justice, to all peace 
and order in society ; and, therefore, its very existence has 
been a state of warfare against the civilized world, and most 
of all against free and orderly republicks, for such are never 
without factions, ready to be the allies of France, and to aid 
her in the work of destruction. Accordingly, scai'cely any but 
republicks have they subverted. Such governments, by shew- 
ing in practice what republican liberty is, detect French im- 
posture, and shew what their pretexts are not. 

To subvert them, therefore, they had, besides the facility 
that faction affords, the double excitement of removing a 
reproach, and converting their greatest obstacles into their 
most efficient auxiliaries. 



WASHINGTON. 12? 

Who then, on careful reflection, will be surprised, that the 
French and their partizans instantly conceived the desire, and 
made the most powerful attempts, to revolutionize the Ameri- 
can government ? But it will hereafter seem strange that their 
excesses should be excused, as the effects of a struggle for 
liberty ; and that so many of our citizens should be flattered, 
while they were insulted with the idea, that our example was 
copied, and our principles pursued. Nothing was ever more 
false, or more fascinating. Our liberty depends on our educa- 
tion, our laws, and habits, to which even prejudices yield ; on 
the dispemon of our people on farms, and on the almost equal 
diffusion of property ; it is founded on morals and religion> 
whose authority reigns in the heart; and on the influence all 
these produce on publick opinion, before that opinion govem.s 
rulers. Here liberty is restraint ; there it is violence : here it i$ 
mild and cheering, like the morning sun of our summer, 
brightening the hills, and making the vallies green ; there it 
is like the sun, when his rays dart pestilence on the sands of 
Africa. American liberty calms and restrains the licentious 
passions, like an angel that says to the winds and troubled seas, 
be still ; but how has French licentiousness appeared to the 
wretched citizens of Switzerland and Venice ? Do not their 
haunted imaginations, even when they wake, represent her as 
a monster, with eyes that flash wild fire, hands that hurl thun- 
derbolts, a voice that shakes the foundation of the hills ? She 
stands, and her ambition measures the eaith ; she speaks, and 
an epidemick fury seizes the nations. 

Experience is lost upon us, if we deny, that it had seized, 
a large part of the American nation. It is as sober, and intel- 
ligent, as free, and as worthy to be free, as any in the world j 
yet, like all other people, we have passions and prejudices, 
and they had received a violent impulse, which, for a time, 
misled us. 

Jacobinism had become here, as in France, rather a sect 
than a party, inspiring a fanaticism that was equally intolerant 
and contagious. The delusion was general enough to be thought 



128 EULOGY ON 

the voice of the people, therefore, claiming authority without 
proof, and jealous enough to exact acquiescence without a 
murmur of contradiction. Some progress was made in training 
multitudes to be vindictive and ferocious. To them nothing 
seemed amiable, but the revokuionary justice of Paris ; nothing 
terrible, but the government and justice of America. The 
very name of patriots was claimed and applied, in proportion 
as the citizens had alienated their hearts from America, and 
transferred their affections to their foreign corrvipter. Party 
discerned its intimate connection of interest with France, and 
consummated its profligacy by yielding to foreign influence. 

The views of these allies required, that this country should 
engage in war with Great Britain. Nothing less would give 
to Fi'ance all the means of annoying this dreaded rival : nothing 
less would ensure the subjection of America, as a satellite to 
the ambition of France : nothing else could make a revolution 
here perfectly inevitable. 

For this end, the minds of the citizens were artfully inflam- 
ed, and the moment was watched, and impatiently waited for, 
when their long heated passions should be in fusion, to pour 
them forth, like the lava of a volcano, to blacken and consume 
the peace and government of our country. 

The systematick operations of a faction under foreign in- 
fluence had begun to appear, and were successively pursued, 
in a manner too deeply alarmmg to be soon forgotten. Who 
of us does not remember this worst of evils in this worst of 
ways ? Shame would forget, if it could, that, in one of the states, 
amendments were proposed to break down the federal senate, 
which, as in the state governments, is a great bulwark of the 
publick order. To break down another, an extravagant judi- 
ciary power was claimed for states. In another state a rebellion 
was fomented by the agent of France : and who, without fresh 
indignation, can remember, that the powers of government 
were openly usurped, troops levied, and ships fitted out to 
fight for her ? Nor can any true friend to our government 
consider without dread, that, soon afterwards, the treaty-mak- 



WASHINGTON. 129 

ing power was boldly challenged for a branch of tlie govern- 
ment, from which the constitution has wisely withholden it. 

I AM oppressed, and know not how to proceed with my 
subject. Washington, blessed be God I who endaed lum 
wiih wisdom and c'otiied him with power; Washington 
issued his proclamf.tion of neutrv.iity, and, at an early pi;riod, 
arrested the intrigues of France and the passions of his country- 
men, on the very edge of the precipice of war and revolution. 

This act of firmness, at the huztird of liis reputation and 
peace, entitles him to the name of the first of patriots. Time 
was gained for the citizens to recover their virtue and good 
sense, and they soon recovered them. The crisis was passed, 
and America was saved. 

You and I, most respected fellow citizens, should be sooner 
tired than satisfied in recounting the particulars of this illus- 
trious man's life. 

How great he appeared while he administered the govern- 
ment, how much greater when he retired from it, how he 
accepted the chief military command under his wise and 
upright successor, how his life was unspotted like his fame, 
and how his death was worthy of his life, are so many distinct 
subjects of instruction, and each of them singly more than 
enough for an elogium. I leave the task, however, to his- 
tory and to posterity ; they will be faithful to it. 

It is not impossible, that some will affect to consider the 
honours paid to this great patriot by the nation, as excessive, 
idolatrous, and degrading to freemen, who are all equal. I 
answer, that refusing to virtue its legitimate honours would 
not prevent their being lavished, in future, on any worthless 
and ambitious favourite. If this day's example should have its 
natural effect, it will be salutary. Let such honours be so con- 
ferred only v/hen, in future, they shall be so merited : then the 
publick sentiment will not be misled, nor the principles of a 
just equality corrupted. The best evidence of reputation is a 
man's whole life. We have now, alas I all Washington's 
before us. There has scarcely appeared a really great man, 

\r 



ISO EULOGY ON 

whose character has been more admired in his life time, or 
less correctly understood by his admirers. When it is com- 
prehended, it is no easy task to delineate its excellences in 
such a manner, as to give to the portrait both interest and 
resemblance ; for it requires thought and study to understand 
the true ground of the superiority of his character over many 
others, whom he resembled in the principles of action, and 
even in the manner of acting. But perhaps he excels all the 
great men that ever lived, in the steadiness of his adherence 
to his maxims of life, and in the uniformity of all his conduct 
to the same maxims. These maxims, though w^ise, v^^ere yet 
not so remarkable for their wisdom, as for their authority over 
his life : for if there were any errours in his judgment, (and he 
discovered as few as any man) we know of no blemishes in his 
■virtue. He was the patriot without reproach : he loved his 
country well enough to hold his success in serving it an ample 
recompense. Thus far self-love and love of country coincided : 
but when his country needed sacrifices, that no other man 
could, or perhaps would be willing to make, he did not even 
hesitate. This was virtue in its most exalted character. 
;More than once he put his fame at hazard, when he had reason 
to think it would be sacrificed, at least in this age. Two 
instances cannot be denied : when the army was disbanded ; 
and again, when he stood, like Leonidas at the pass of Ther- 
mopylae, to defend our independence against France. 

It is indeed almost as diflicult to draw his character, as the 
portrait of virtue. I'he reasons are similar : our ideas of 
moral excellence are obscure, because they are complex, and 
we are obliged to resort to illustrations. W.\shington's 
example is the happiest, to shew what virtue is ; and to deli- 
iieate his character, we naturally expatiate on the beauty of 
virtue : much must be felt, and much imagined. His pre- 
eminence is not so much to be seen in the display of any one 
virtue, as in the possession of them all, and in the practice of 
the most difficult. Hereafter, therefore, his character must be 
.studied before it will be striking ; and then it will be admitted 
as a model, a precious one to a free republick ! 



WASmi^GTON. 131 

It is no less difficult to speak of his talents. They were 
adapted to leadj without daziiing mankind ; and to draw forth 
and employ the talents of others, Avithout being misled by 
them. In this he Avas certainly superiour, that he neitiier 
mistook nor misapplied his own. His great modesty and 
reserve would have concealed them, if great occasions had 
not called them forth ; and then, as he never spoke from the 
affectation to shme, nor acted from any sinister motives, it 
is from their effects only that we are to judge of their great- 
ness and extent. In publick trusts, where men, acting con- 
spicuously, are cautious, and in those private concerns, where 
few conceal or resist their weaknesses. Washing ion was 
uniformly great, pursuing right conduct from right max- 
ims. His talents were such as assist a sound judgment, 
and ripen with it. His prudence was consummate, and 
seemed to take the direction of his powers and passions ; for, 
as a soldier, he was more solicitous to avoid mistakes th..t 
might be fatal, than to perform exploits that are biiiliant; 
and as a statesman, to adhere to just principles, however old, 
than to pursue novelties; and therefore, in both chur.icters, 
his qualities were singularly adapted to the interest, and ucre 
tried in the greatest perils, of the country His habiis of 
inquiry were so far remarkable, that he was never satibfied 
with investigating, nor desisted from it, so hjng as he had 
less than all the light that he could obtain upon a subject, 
and then he made his decision without bias. 

This command over the partialiues that so generally stop 
men short, or turn them aside in their pursuit of trutli, is one 
of the chief causes of his unvaried course of right condiicr in 
so many difficult scenes, where every human actor must be 
presumed to err. If he had strong passions, he had learned 
to subdue them, and to be moderate and mild. If he had v,c. •. 
nesses, he concealed them, which is rare, and exclu;;!^ ' ' 
from the government of his temper and conduct, w!^ 
more rare. If he loved fame, he never made impri.. 



132 EULOGY ON 

pliances for what is called popularity. The fame he enjoyed 
is of the kind that Avill last for ever ; yet it was rather the 
effect, than the motive, of his conduct. Some future Plu- 
tarch will search for a parallel to his character. Epami- 
nondas is perhaps the brightest name of all antiquity. Our 
Washington resembled him in the purity and ardour of 
his patriotism ; and, like him, he first exalted the glory of 
his country. There, it is to be hoped, the parallel ends : 
•for Thebes fell with Epaminondas. But such comparisons 
cannot be pursued far, without departing from the similitude. 
For we shall find it as difficult to compare great men as great 
rivers : some we admire lor the length and rapidity of their 
current, and the grandeur of their cataracts ; others, for the 
majestick silence and fulness of their streams : we cannot 
bring them together to measure the difference of their 
■waters. The unambitious life of Washington, declining 
fame, yet courted by it, seemed, like the Ohio, to choose its 
long way through solitudes, diffusing fertility ; or like his 
own Potowmack, widening and deepening his channel, as 
he approaches the sea, and displaying most the usefulness 
and serenity of his greatness towards the end of his course. 
Such a citizen would do honour to any country. The con- 
stant veneration and affection of his country will shew, that 
it was worthy of such a citizen. 

However his military fame may excite the wonder of 
mankind, it is chiefly by his civil magistracy, that his exam- 
ple will instruct them. Great generals have arisen in all ages 
of the world, and perhaps most in those of despotism and 
darkness. In times of violence and convulsion, they rise, 
by the force of the whirlwind, high enough to ride in it, and 
direct the storm. Like meteors, they glare on the black 
clouds with a splendour, that, while it dazzles and terrifies, 
makes nothing visible but the darkness. The fame of heroes 
is indeed growing vulgar : they multiply in every long war ; 
they stand in history, and thicken in their ranks, almost as 
undistinguished as their own soldiers. 



WASHINGTON. 133 

But such a chief magistrate as Washington appears 
like the pole star in a clear sky, to direct the skilful states- 
man. His presidency will form an epoch, and be distinguished 
as the age of Washington. Already it assumes its high 
place in the political region. Like the milky way, it whitens 
along its allotted portion of the hemisphere. The latest 
generations of men will survey, through the telescope of 
history, the space where so many virtues blend their rays, 
and delight to sepai*ate them into groups and distinct virtues. 
As the best illustration of them, the living monument, to 
which the first of patriots would have chosen to consign his 
fame, it is my earnest prayer to heaven, that our country may 
subsist, even to that late day, in the plenitude of its liberty 
and happiness, and mingle its mild glory with Washing- 
ton's. 



C 134 3 

SCHOOL BOOKS. * 

•I,irst puhllslied in the Palladium. Jauuaiy, 1301. 

JLT has been the custom, of late years, to put a number of 
little books into the hands of children, containing fables and 
moral lessons. This is very well, because it is right first to 
raise curiosity, and then to guide it. Many books for chil- 
dren are, however, injudiciously compiled: the language is 
too much raised above the ideas of that tender age •,' the 
moral is draAvn from the fable, they know not why ; and when 
they gain wisdom from experience, they will see the restric- 
tions and exceptions which are necessary to the rules of 
conduct laid down in their books, but which such books do 
not give. Some of the most admired works of this kind 
abound with a frothy sort oi sentiment, as the readers of novels 
are pleased to call it, the chief merit of which consists in 
shedding tears, and giving away money. Is it right, or agree- 
able to good sense, to try to make the tender age more ten- 
der ? Pity and generosity, though amiable impulses, are blind 
ones, and, as we grow older, are to be managed by rules, and 
restrained by visdom. 

It is not clear, that the heart, at thirty, is any the softer for 
■weeping, at ten, over one of Berquin's fables, the point of 
which turns on a beggar boy's being ragged, and a rich man's 
son being well clad. Some persons, indeed, appear to have 
shed all their tears of sympathy before they reach the period 
of mature age. Most young hearts are tender, and tender 
enough; the object of education is rather to direct these 
emotions, however amiable, than to augment them. 

Why then, if these books for children must be retained, 
as they will be, should not the bible regain the place it once 
held as a school book ? Its morals are pure, its examples 
captivating and noble. The reverence for the sacred book. 



SCHOOL BOOK& 135 

that is thus early impressed, lasts long ; and, probably, if not 
impressed in infancy, never takes firm hold of the mind. 
One consideration more is important. In no book is there 
so good English, so pure and so elegant ; and by teaching all 
the same book, they will speak alike, and the bible will justly 
remain the standard of language as well as of faith. A bar- 
barous provincial jargon will be banished, and taste, corrupted 
by pompous Johnsonian affectation, will be restored. 



[ 136 3 



FALKLAND. N**. L 

FIRST PUBLISHED IN THE PALLADIUM, FEBRUARY, 1801. 
TO NEW-ENGLAND MEN. 

A HE change of the American administration is an event 
to create surprise and alarm. 

How will it be considered, and what will be its effects ? 
In Europe, it will certainly discredit republican principles. 
Those who did not reason deeply, but took their opinions of 
America as they found them most prevalent, will exclaim, 
Paine, and Barlow, and half the book-makers, and more than 
half the expatriated American travellers, have told us, that 
republican principles were pure in the new world, as they 
flowed from the fountain head, the people, and the rights of 
man, and that plenty, contentment, and equality I'eigned, as 
in the golden age. 

Whatever interest our national vanity may take in these 
representations, however land-jobbers may try to prolong 
their credit by painting Kentucky and Tennessee as a new 
Arcadia, the evidence of facts will prevail. It will be known, 
that the government had enemies, and that our political mil- 
lenium has bred thousands of malecontents. They will see, 
that the men who said the constitution ought not to have had 
being, are entrusted with its life and authority. 

They are to be bound by duty and by oaths to recommend 
to confidence what they have blasted with suspicion ; to en- 
force what they have resisted ; and to spare the prey they have 
so long hunted, and at last taken. As the party in power has 
called the government a bastard of monarchy, a government 
already rotten, though not ripe, foreigners will conclude, from 
the event of the election, that this is the publick sentiment 
of the nation, and that the Americans arc sick of their repub- 
lican experiment. 



FALKLAND. 1^7 

Is it not to all the European world the evidence of facts, 
that we are at length fully convinced that the antifederalists, 
■who were against trying it, were very much in the right ? 
Republican pi'inciples will hold, therefore, in Europe, nearly 
the same rank with the principles of swindling. Nothing, 
they. will insist, can be so bewitching as their promise ; no- 
thing so bitter or so sure as their disappointment. Perhaps, 
as Europe is not fit for republican forms of government, it is 
best that they should not any longer admire what they ought 
not to adopt, and what, if adopted, they could not maintain. 

Foreigners, who examine events with an eye of scrutiny, 
•will not hesitate to foretell, that the change is no little cabinet 
scene, where one minister comes into power and another 
goes out, but a great moral revolution^ proceeding from the 
vices and the passions of men, shifting officers to-day, that 
measures, and principles, and systems, may be shifted to- 
morrow. They will say, we know something of Mr. Monroe, 
his astonishing complaisance to the tyrants of Paris, and the 
no less astonishing rudeness and insult thrown by Barras on 
this minister's government. By such a sample we may- 
judge, they will cry, of the spirit and character of the new 
American rulers ; for he is in credit, and his party associates 
are coming into power. The Washington and Adams policy- 
has built up much. What have they built, that the artificers 
of ruin have not already denounced, and meditated to destroy? 
Will Mazzei's correspondent cherish what he hates, or, in the 
day of democratick wrath, spare what he dreads ? 

The banks and publick paper, the " sceleris vestigia nos- 
" tri," will be expected speedily to fall. Commerce will be 
represented, as in the days of opposition, when the first 
frigates were voted against the Algerines, as too expensive 
to be protected by a naval force. Down then with the navy. 
Down goes commerce, the fruitful mother of British debts, 
the grandmother and nurse of British influence. Why should 
■we maintain soldiers ? Colonel Fries is now attached to the 
administration, and, therefore, we may depend on him, and 
18 



138 j'alkland; 

on men like him, and on some generals and brigadiers of the 
militia, to defend the excise and land-tux laws from being 
rcfiealed by the sovereigns of a whiskey congress, convened 
at a sedition pole, Down then with the army— that is already 
down ; down with the diminutive image of an army on the 
frontiers, a miniature that preserves deformity and loses the 
grace and resembumce. Let the sons of Logan cone and 
help us to establish the happy state of nature and primitive 
virtue. What need of revenue more than impost will yield ? 
Reliench eNpenses ; get rid of the vermin that fatten 
upon it, and very little revenue will answer. The blood- 
suckers will grow thin, perhaps die, but the /leople will thrive : 
they win be freed from exaction and guarded against cor- 
ruption. So long as their lands, and houses, and distilleries 
pay tribute^ they are not free ; so long as this tribute goes to 
pamper an insolent upstart race of funding system lords, they 
are not equal. 

Wise Europeans will ask, what can protect the rights of 
the few, when the rage of the many is thus directed against 
them ? We have seen the French clergy stripped in a night. 
One vote of congress would put the funded debt into the 
family tomb with paper money. What will be the security 
of right that is unpopular ? and what shall prolong the life 
of the creatures of popularity ? You cannot keep the insects, 
that buzz in the August sunshine, over winter. 

To European observers the prospect of America will ap- 
pear to sadden, and its horizon to lower. 

There is scarcely any evil, that has not been foretold in 
our own gazettes, and that good men do not unfeignedly 
apprehend from the change. 

If the violent jacobins should have it in their power to do 
^vhat they wish, there is not a shadow of doubt, that they 
would make smooth work of all the most cherished systems 
of the administrations of Washington and Adams. When 
they heard of the success of their ticket, it is certain they 



FALKLAND. 139 

thought all Jhis would be in their power, and they began to 
make feasts and to exclaim : 

Ag-.^redere O mag-nos, aderi* jam tempus, honores, 
which, in English, is, now is the glorious time for jacobins to 
get offices. 

If they should administer the government according to the 
principles they have avowed in the gazettes of the party, and 
the examples in 'France which they have so much admired, 
and if they should abolish and new model all that they have so 
much professed to detest in the laws of congress, there is 
indeed no curse of a thorough-going revolution, with which 
we are not threatened. 



FALKLAND. N^. U. 

TO NEW-ENOLAND MEN. 

BEFORE evils have happened, it is the part of wisdom to 
exhibit their worst aspects. When they are known to be 
inevitable, or have actually occurred, it is no less the office of 
wisdom to display their palliations or their remedies. It would 
be cowardly, in despair, to aggravate their weight, or to sink 
under its pressure. No : bad as our prospects are, they are 
not hopeless. There is a sure resource for hope in ourselves: 
the steady good sense of New-England will be a shield of 
defence. Tu ne cede malis^ sed contra audentior ito. The 
publick spirit and opinion of this division of the union con- 
stitute a force, which the enemies of our constitutions and 
fundamental interests will labour to corrupt, but will not dare 
to withstand. 

For New-England is not inhabited by a conquered people. 
Their opinions will have some influence on the fiolicy^ if their 
commerce, navigation, and credit should have no hold on the 
hearts of their rulers. Even conquerors, unless they were 
willing to have their fighting work to do over again, would 



140 FALKLAND, 

choose to mask under the most specious disguises the viola- 
tion of rights and the contempt of opinions. 

There is evidence enough, that the party expected to rule 
is not friendly to the commerce of any of the states, and espe- 
cially to the fisheries and navigation of the Eastern states. 
We do not want, they argue, an expensive navy for the sake 
of these ; nor these for the sake of a navy. Navies breed wars, 
and wars augment navies, and both augment expenses, and this 
brings forth funding systems, banks, and corrupt influence. 

These few words contain the system of our new politicians, 
which it is probable they will be, in future, as in time past, 
complrasant enough to one another to call philosophy. Such 
illuminism, such visions of bedlam have visited some famous 
heads that do not repose with!n its cells, and condensed their 
thin essences into schemes of political reform, projects of 
cheap governments, that are to be rich without revenue, strong 
without force, venerable with popular prejudice directed by 
faction against them. Learned fools are of all the greatest, as 
well as the most indocile. Accordingly, in despite of the ex- 
perience of all the world and of our own, in despite of common 
sense and the dictates of obvious duty, such men, high in re- 
putation, and expected to be high in office, have insisted that 
we do not want a single soldier, nor a single armed ship : that 
credit is an abuse, an evil to be cured only by having none, a 
cancer that eats, and will kill unless cut or burnt out with 
causticks : that if we have any superfluity, foreigners will come 
for it, if they need it, and if they do not, it would be a folly and 
a loss for us to carry it to them. They tell us with emphasis, 
and seem to expect our vanity will gain them credit for saying, 
that America ought to renounce the sea and to draw herself 
closely into her shell : let the mad world trade, negociate, 
and fight, while we Americans live happily, like the Chinese, 
enjoying abundance, independence, and liberty. 

This is said by persons cHid in English broadcloth and Irish 
linen, who import their conveniences from England, and their 
politicks from France. It is solemnly pronounced as the only 
wise policy for a country, where the children multiply faster 



FALKLAND. 141 

than the slieepj and it is, inconsistently enough too, pronounced 
by those who would have all farmers, no manufacturers. 

Notions of this stamp of sublimated extravagance have been 
often in the heads of book-makers and projectors. Some 
Frenchman suggested a scheme of like wisdom, to bind kings 
and princes, not refiublicks, to keep the peace, and be of 
good beha\iour ; and there are some declaimers, who would 
have the Indians on the frontiers enter into recognizance, and 
thus get rid of the expense and danger of a standing army of 
Jour regiments. But they would have a militia, half a million 
strong, made expert soldiers by training them, unpaid, till 
they become equal to veterans. A militia system is right ; 
these refonners, however, never touch truth but to distort it, 
nor any sound principle but to drive it to extremes : they 
Avould, therefore, make a militia system burdensome, unwieldy, 
and corrupt, a standing army for faction, distinguished by a 
strange badge, and arrayed against the government. 

It is mdeed probable, that these wild theories have never 
yet much disturbed the world by addling the brains of any 
man who had its business to do. Such political sophists, till 
lately, have been calmly despised, but never trusted with 
power. Into the hands of such children it has never before 
been thought prudent to put knives. 

If, to punish the manifold sins of this nation, God's displea- 
sure dooms it to be delivered over to projectors and philoso- 
phists, the first of the sort who ever had the chance to play 
the statesman, will they have the temerity to undertake, and 
will they accomplish their plans ? 

In free states, so long as they preserve their laws and their 
tranquillity, the publick opinion is the efficient ruler. In times 
of convulsion, it is probably less regarded in such states than 
■under a des/iotism, because it can be counterfeited better. Supposc^ 
Mr. Jefi'erson should come into office : with all his refinements, 4 
he is reputed a man of genius. His experience and caution, 
we hope, will forbid his pushing schemes against the clear 
sense of the people, or even of a very large part of them. If the 
yeformers should cry, perish commerce, fisheries, and naviga- 



142 FALKLAND. 

tion, live and prosper agriculture, yet the conception of this 
precious project would be found easier than its execution. 
Reformers make nothing of old establishments, of interests 
that have taken root for ages, and of prejudices, habits, and 
,^ relations, rather less ancient and rather more stubborn than 
( they. 

New-England now contains a million and a half of inhabi- 
tants, of all colonies that ever were founded the largest, the 
most assimilated, and, to use the modern jargon, nationalized y 
the most respectable and prosperous, the most truly interest- 
ing to America and to humanity, more imlike and more supe- 
riour to other people, (the English excepted) than the old 
Roman race to their neighbours and competitors. This peo- 
ple, whose spirit is as lofty as their destiny, is settled on an 
extensive coast, and, by situation and character, has a greater 
proportion of its inhabitants engaged in navigation and mari- 
time affairs than France or England, perhaps than even Holland. 
In spirit and enterprise no nation exceeds them. It is in vain 
to say, things ought not to have been so, it Avould have been 
better to have had half as many farmers. It is absurd to say 
any such thing. 

The question for a new administration is not, what ought to 
have been preferred three ages ago, but what viust now be 
destroyed. These great interests are too precious to be sacri- 
ficed, they are too powerful even to be neglected. They will 
demand, and well they may, the effectual, zealous, assiduous 
protection and fostering care of government ; and no president 
will ever repel the claim with defiance or contempt. Protec- 
tion will be promised, and, perhaps, with the design to afford it. 

It is right for the publick to suppose, that Mr. Jefferson's 
administration must be tried before it can be kno\\Ti. It is fair 
and candid to make every presumption in favour of his inten- 
tions, that may not be discredited by his conduct. It is, however, 
an effort of candour, but we must make it, to allow, that, like 
most men of genius, he has been carried a.way by systems, 
and the everlasting zeal to generalize, instead of proceeding, 
like common men of practical sense, on the low, but sure 



FALKLAND. 143 

foundation of matter of fact. It is the forte, and it is also the 
foible of genius, to be under the dominion of the imagination ; 
and such men often judge of a law as they would of a picture, 
by the rules of taste. They can decide in such a case only as 
the mob do, by acclamation. What ought to be the result of 
experience, that a blockhead could both feel and express, is 
compi'ehended in the province of sentiment ; and, for the curse 
and confusion of a state, the plodding business of politicks 
becomes one of the fine arts. The statesman is bewildered 
with his own peculiar fanaticism : he sees the stars near, but 
loses sight of the earth : he sails in his balloon into clouds and 
thick vapours, above his business and his duties, and if he 
sometimes catches a glimpse of the wide world, it seems flat- 
tened to a plain, and shrunk in all its proportions ; therefore he 
strains his opticks to look beyond its circumference, and con- 
templates invisibility, till he thinks notliing else is real. New 
Avorlds of metaphysicks issue from his teeming brain, and 
Avhirl in orbits more eliiptick than the comets. Man rises 
fi'om the mire, into which aristocracy has trodden him, shakes 
off the sleep of ignorance and the fettei-s of the law, a gorgeous 
new being, invested with perfectibility, a saint in purity, a 
giant in intellect, and goes to inhabit these worlds. Condorcet 
and Roland, and men like them, will be there, and Paine, and 
Duane, and Marat, and Burroughs. There virtue will cele- 
brate her triumphs ; there patriotism will be inebriated with 
the ecstacy of her fellowships. 

I KNOW as little of the political illuminists as of the sect of 
the Swedenborgians ; but to me it has ever appeared, that the 
former are a new sect of fanaticks. They manifest a strange 
heat in the heart, but no light in the brain, unless it be a fee- 
ble light, whose rays are gathered in the lens of philosophy, 
to kindle eveiy thing in the state, that is combustible, into a 
blaze. A statesman of this sect will poise himself in his chair, 
like an alchymist in his laboratory, pale with study, his fin- 
gers sooty with experiments, eager to make fuel of every thing 
that is precious, and sanguin^ly expecting that he shall extract 



144 FALKLAND. 

every thing precious from the cinders and dross that must be 
thi'own away. 

Yet if we ascribe to Mr. Jefferson these vagaries, so dear 
if they happen to be his own, so confidently trusted because 
they have not been tried, it is natural enough to expect, that, 
nevertheless, he will desist from his experiments as soon as 
the results become too complicated and too uncertain for the 
satisfaction of a philosopher. He may think it prudent to 
■wait till the world is more enlightened, before he prosecutes 
his schemes to hasten the progress of its absolute perfectibi- 
lity. He will stoop to the prejudice that will not rise witli him. 
The family of labour, brown with West-India suns, or glisten- 
ing and rancid with whale oil, will tell him, that they had 
rather ti'ead a ship's deck than the wilderness, and prefer the 
conflict with the storms of Spitzbergen, and the chace of the 
spermaceti, where there is danger and glory, and associates to 
share the one and to bestow the other, to scalping Indians, 
or skinning otters, in roaming over an immeasurable waste, 
where the silence is broken only by the bowlings of the famish- 
ed wolves, and where the sight, even of these animals is less 
dreaded and less dangerous than that of their fellows. They 
■will tell him, they cannot change their element, nor will they 
submit, when politicians, with hearts colder than that element 
at the pole, prove, on calculation, it is best that they should 
perish in it. 



FALKLAND. N**. HI. 
/^„..TO NEW-ENGLAND MEN. 

THE project of transmuting the classes of American citi- 
zens, and converting sailors into back-woods-men, is not too 
monstrous for speculatists to conceive and to desire ; but it is too 
vast for such men, and especially in four years, to accomplish. 
They are not of the race of the Titans. They cannot pluck up 



FALKLAND. 145 

tlie iron-bound shores, M'ith all their towns, and plant them on 
the Miami ; and as long as the sea washes these shores, our 
citizens will be navigators, and will claim protection in a tone 
that will not be soothed by the answer, that a navy is expen- 
sive, or that the wilderness stretches out its welcome arms to 
receive therai. They will I'eply, so does death its more wel- 
come arms. 

The maritime interest of New-England is very essential to 
the existence of every other. If it really is not, it is pretty 
extensively believed to be, the root of our prosperity. Laying, 
or threatening to lay the axe to that root, would excite such 
an opposition as would deter the most vigorous despotism 
from its purpose. 

In prosperous times, when men feel the greatest ardour in 
their pursuits of gain, they manifest the most callous apathy" 
to politicks. Those who possess nothing, and have nothing 
to do but to manage the intrigues of elections, will prevail 
against five times their number of men of business. Each 
description is actuated by strong passions, moving in different, 
but not opposite directions. When, however, some of the 
^I'eat interests of society are invaded, those passions change 
their direction and are quickened in it. They are then capa-' 
ble of defending themselves Avith all the vivacity of the spirit 
of gain and of enterprise, with all the energies of vengeance 
and despair. These, it must be confessed, are revolutionary* 
resources, for the defence of property and right, which can- 
not and ought not to be called forth on ordinary occasions. 
The classes in question will be long in danger, before they will 
be in fear, and if their adversary forbears to push the attack 
in so rude a manner as to make that fear overpower all other 
emotions, he may proceed, unsuspected and unopposed. The)"" 
will be as much engrossed with their business, as the political 
projectors with their plans of reforming, till they destroy it. 
It is probable, therefore, that the maritime interest of the 
Eastern states is scaixely yet beginning to suffer apprehension, 
or to think of measures of precaution. It will seem incredi- 
ble to the concerned, that interests so precious should appear 
19 



146 FALKLAND. 

of small value even to illuminists and reformers. They will 
not believe that the jacobin Catalines could be vile or daring 
enough to assail them. They will say, supposing the new 
president to be fond of power, it cannot be the interest of his 
ambition to prosecute the attack, as it would expose his four 
years administration to the most dreadful agitations, and ani- 
mate against himself, personally, enemies by classes and hosts, 
whom he could not expect ever to pacify, nor always to over- 
power. They will, therefore, feel a sanguine confidence, that 
banks and debts, publick and private, manufactures, navigation, 
and the fisheries will be sure of tranquillity, and almost sure of 
patronage. It would extend these pages too far to examine in 
detail the grounds of this confidence. It will be sufficient, 
briefly to observe, that it may be true, and perhaps it is, as the 
democrats pledged themselves for the event, that the new pre- 
sident will be averse from violent counsels, that he is so from 
principle, character, and policy, and that the new men will pur- 
sue the old measures. Yet it ought to be remembered that 
the head of the party cannot wholly reject, nor, perhaps, very 
materially alter, the system prescribed to hirh by his political 
supporters. If he does, he will be a federalist. If he will sup- 
port principles, they will not oppose him : they will not, like 
the jacobins, oppose for opposition sake. But to gain tlieir 
confidence, he must give them the evidence of facts : he 
must act right. For confidence grows, if at all, -without arti- 
ficial culture ; it will not bear the forcing of a hot-house. Like 
a si;rub on the high peak of a mountain, where it seldom rains, 
it absorbs the dew, and though it grows not much in a year, 
and is never lofty, its roots striking deeper than its top branches, 
yet it grows for an age, and braves the tempests ; while the 
weeds of popularity have tall, weak stems, from the rankness 
of their growth, and perish on the dunghills that they sprout 
from. 

If he should cling with fond zeal to the schemes of his old 
friends, the president will be strongly impelled by the p-u'ty 
current, and if he yields to it, he will _soon cease to be their 
leader and become their instrument. 1 Indeed there are but 



FALKLAND Ut 

Iwo divisions of party in the United States, and he is a very 
weak or very presumptuously vain man, who can think of 
organizing a third party, that shall rule them both. Those 
who possess propeily, who enjoy rights, and who reverence 
the laws as the guardians of both, naturally think it important, 
and what is better, feel the necessity of sustaining the control- 
ing and restraining power of the state : in other words, their 
interests and wishes are on the side oi juslice, because justice 
will secure to every man his own. Tliis is federalism. On 
the other hand, those who do not know what right is, or if they 
do, despise it ; who have no interest in justice, because they 
have little for it to secure, and that little, perhaps, its impaitial 
severity would transfer to creditors ; who see in the mild aspect 
of our government a despot's frown, and a dagger in its hand, 
while it scatters blessings ; Avho consider government as sa\ 
impediment to liberty, and the stronger the government, the 
stronger the impediment; that it is patriotism, virtue, heroism 
to surmount it ; that liberty is to be desired for its abstract 
excellence, rather than its practical benefits, and, therefore, 
that it is better to run the hazard of the greatest possible 
degree of a perishable liberty, rather than to accept it with 
those guards and defences, which to insane theorists seem to 
make it less, but which, on the just analogies of experience, 
promise to make it immortal ; those, in a word, who look on 
government with fear and aversion, on the relaxation or sub- 
version of it, with complacency and hope ; all who from ere- yf 
dulity, envy, anger, and pride, from ambition or cupidity, are ^/\ 
impatient under the restraints, or eager for the trappings of j 
power. . —''' 

All such reason, when they can, and act, and feel in a man- - , 
ner unfavourable to the support of the constitution and laws. 
Their opinions and creeds are various, and many of them are 
plausible, and seem to be moderate. It is probable they would 
all, except the leaders, at present incline to stop short of the 
extremes, to which the first steps are not perceived to tend, 
but which, when they are taken, are inevitable. They are 
impelled by a common instinct, as blind as it is steady and 



148 , FALKLAND. 

powerful in its action. They are, by nature, instinct, habit, 
and interest, opposers of the government. They consist of 
four classes, an ti federalists, democrats, anarchists, and jaco- 
bins, exceedingly unlike in character and in views, yet, while 
they are all out of power, harnnoniously concurring to promote 
the common cause : once in power, it is probable they would 
disagree. There can, of course, exist but two political divi- 
sions in the country ; to help, or to hinder the administration 
of its government. This description is so compi-ehensive as 
to embrace all the active citizens, and leaves, for the formation 
of a third party, neither materials, artificers, nor object. 

Some very vain and some weak men, and some very great 
hypoc; ites, pretend to be of no party ; while they arrogate to 
themselves a discernment superiour to both parties, they affect 
to be neutral and undecided between them. They claim the 
title of the truest patriots, and to love their country with the 
ardour of passion, yet they inconsistently condemn the vio- 
lence of both parties, and expect to have both believe that the 
fire of their zeal subsists pure and unexpended in the frost of 
moderation. Such men are often flattered as federalists, more 
often used as democrats, but always held in a contempt that is 
never more hearty than when it is discreetly suppressed. 

Whoever is president will have too much sense to denounce 
both parties, and to think of poising his weight exactly between 
two supports, but resting upon neither. We know already, 
that this policy, if it may be called such, will not be adopted 
by either of the two successful candidates. He will shape his 
system according to the federal or democratick plan ; he will 
adhere either to the restraining doctrines, or to those which 
counteract restraint : he must either serve God or Mammon. 
The Washington and Adams administration proceeded on the 
basis, that the government was organized, and clothed with 
power to rule according to the constitution ; the democratick 
theorists insist, that the people, meaning themselves, have a 
good right to rule the government. 

By exciting the people to govern or to oppose government, 
these leaders well know, that those who are thus irregularly 



FALKLAND. I49 

permitted to act in their behalf, will en stress all their power. 
Against this natural propensity to faction, a regular and vigor- 
ous government is the proper and only adequate security. 
Of course, for that very reason, such a government will be 
hateful to faction, and will be, if possible, usurped and destroy- 
ed by it. For such usurpation the nature of liberty excites 
the desire, and affords the pretext and the means. 

Accordingly, we have seen a faction, bitter against the 
constitution in its passage, against the government in its ad- 
ministering the laws, and the magisti'ates and officers intrusted 
with the execution of them. They have struggled for the 
mastery, and after a persevering effbit for twelve years, they 
have succeeded in the late great election. Will this paity 
acquiesce, if the mere change of meii should be the only fruit 
of their victory ? No, the nature of faction itself, our observa- 
tion of jacobinism in France, our knowledge of jacobin charac- 
ters at home, forbid the idea. They will be greater malecon- 
tents than ever, if new men should pursue old measures. Few 
can be so absurd as to expect office ; multitudes do expect a 
political millenium. Taxes are to be abolislied : thp occa- 
sions for taxes are to be for ever removed : armies are to 
be no more raised : navies will be reduced, reduced as soon as 
it can be made tolerably safe and popular, to nothing : interest 
on the publick debt is to be reduced gradually, but at the 
pleasure of those who think the principal a fraud and a curse, 
an avenging devil and a tempter. Hopes, like these, are to be 
disappointed or gratified. The president will know, that it is 
impossible to do all that is expected, but he will readily un- 
dertake to do something, that every thing may not be required 
of him. He will recommend economy, and profess the pro- 
foundest reverence for the sense of the people, which the united 
Irishmen will of course apply to themselves. He will keep in 
office such federalists as are willing to stay, and lend a prisma- 
tick light of contrasted colours to his administration. He will 
appoint a Livingston and a Gallatin to office. 

He will lavish his smiles on federalists, and his confidence 
on two or three select democrats, and will be very glad, per- 



150 FALKLAND. 

haps, to get on his foul' years political journey in this seem- 
ingly equivocal manner as a president, 

Placed on the isthmus of a middle state, 
A being darkly wise and rudely gi-eat. 

But if this would do for him, it would not answer for his 
party : they will expect much and attempt eveiy thing. 



FALKLAND N*'. IV. 
TO NEW-ENGLAND MEN. 

TO abolish the funding system is neither necessary nor 
decorous. But there are as many ways to slay this enemy, as 
to destroy human life ; by violence, by poison, by neglect. By 
violence the interest may be reduced ; by taxing the holders 
of publick debt as much may be drawn back in taxes, as is 
paid in name of interest : this is poison. Or the laws for 
enforcing the revenue and canning into effect the engagements 
of the government may be delayed, and finally not passed. The 
Gallatin doctrine in regard to treaty appropriations furnishes 
theory enough for all the paper money iniquity, that ever was 
practised or imagined. The children of the publick faith may 
come to a democratick government, and say, in the name of 
justice and plighted honour, give us bread ; and such a govern- 
ment may say, as the state government of Rhode-Island have 
heretofore said of their war debts, take your bread, offering a 
stone. 

The new president will have a part of no common difficulty 
to act. He will desire to conciliate the federalists, and with- 
out respecting their systems, might be willing to let them 
alone. The democrats really wish to see an impossible ex- 
periment fairly tried, and to govern without governmerit. It 
is to be expected, that they will applaud their chief, who is 
believed to be their true disciple, if he should take a fcUicy to 
trv it. 



FALKLAND. 151 

TiiEY consider government as a strange sort of self-moving 
mill, or a ship, that, while it is acted upon by one element, 
goes the better for the resistance of another. It is an even 
chance, therefore, that they may deem the opfwdtion of the 
federalists as harmless and eVen as salutary as their own. In 
pursuance of their plan, they will let the government alone to 
go by its own inscrutable momentum. They will, as hereto- 
fore, deem it proper to be lookers on, not co-operators, unless 
when it shall want either force or treasure, or even counte- 
nance and approbation ; and then they will summon each other 
to their old post of opposition. Treasure corrupts, and force 
oppresses, and, therefore, government shall have neither. The 
immediate evil to be apprehended to our government, is the 
denial of its daily bread ; that sort of consumption which preys 
on the balsamick parts of the blood, and leaves a residuum of 
vitriol. The body politick, though bloated with a shew of 
health Avhile it perishes, and alive with double-concocted poi- 
sons, will shed a corroding and mortal venom on all it touches. 
The laws will be jacobin ; for as soon as the democrats have 
wasted their first energies, and their system falls into decrepi- 
tude, (and a year of democratick government is old age) they 
will crowd themselves into power. They ai'e a race distinct 
from the democrats, and as much worse in their designs, as 
the independents, in Oliver Cromwell's time, than the presby- 
terians. 

Then expect amendments, that will make the constitution 
a confederation. Then expect commercial regulations, which 
will profess to cramp British commerce, and will cramp our 
own. First revenue, wealth, and credit will take flight ; then 
peace. 

The danger, therefore, to all the interests and institutions of 
New-England, is not so much to be asci'ibed to the character 
or designs of the new president, whoever he may be, or to be 
feared in the first year of the new administration, as from the 
progress of time, and the natural developments of faction. 
There is universally a presumption in democracy that promises 



152 FALKLAND. 

every thing; and at the same time an imbecility that can- 
accomplish nothing, nor even preserve itself. 

There is in jacobinism all the vigour, audacity, and intel- 
ligence retjuisite to take advantage of this state of things. The 
democrats Avill be their journeymen to do the work, while they 
claim the wages ; the pioneers, who will clear the way for the 
procession of the jacobin triumph. The jacobins and demo- 
crats are, in fact, less agreed in their objects and principles, 
though these latter do not know it, than the federalists and the 
democrats. 

It would be improper as well as tedious to pursue, in a 
newspaper essay, all the illustrations and details, that these 
observations may seem to require. They are not, however, so 
much addressed to men who are no federalists, but who might 
be convinced to become such, nor to men v/ho already wish 
well to the good old cause of order, law, and liberty, yet who 
are weak enough to think it will be safe in jacobin hands, as 
to the old federalists, the true and intelligent, who rightly 
conclude, that, if our excellent government, in this the day of 
its humiliation and imminent peril, is to be saved, it must be 
by the correctness of the publick opinion and the energy of 
the publick spirit that is to impress it. 

This is no day for despondency, or servility, or trimming. 
It is as little to the purpose, to trust implicitly to the modera- 
tion of a jacobin administration, or to those smooth professions, 
with which it will attempt in the beginning to make the feder- 
alists supine or treacherous in the cause, to inake them cold in 
its defence, or go over to the enemy. 

That cause, though endangered, is not desperate. The 
jacobins have pretended, that the people approve their designs ; 
bvit their partial success has been owing to the concealment of 
those designs. They have played the part of hypocrisy with 
an audacity of impudence that is unparalleled : they have af- 
fected to be federalists, republicans, friends, admirers, and 
champions ot the constitution : they have recommended jaco- 
bin members of congress, as better watchmen for it than its 
known friends : they have assured us, that Mr. Jefferson will 



FxVLKLAND. 153 

not swbvert or neglect to preserve those institutions and in- 
terests, which he is known, and, it is believed, well-known to 
condemn and abhor as much as his adherents. These protes- 
tations have had effect, and jacobins have been preferred, not 
because they were such, but because it was believed, that they 
Avere what they pretended to be. The wolves in sheep's 
clothing- have not yet been stripped : they are in the sheep- 
fold. 

Let them not, however, imagine, that the people, especially 
of the Eastern states, are ready to co-operate in the work of 
jacobinism. If, after having Avith some success deceived the 
people, they should become such dupes as to act on the credit 
of their own tales, let them beware. They Avill find it is easier 
to deceive a high-spirited people, than to enslave them, and 
safer to insult them by the imputation of political principles 
that they abhor, than to plunder mid beggar them by carrying 
such principles into effect. 



20 



X 154 ] 

THE OBSEUVEU. 

t'intjtuliliihcd ill the Palladtun:, I'cbruary, 1801. 

X H E French revolution is a sort of experimentul political 
philosophy, in which many foolish opinions arc tried and found 
Avanting. The jacobins are, however, like qviacks, who recom- 
mend their patent medicines. Experience has no effect on 
them to cure their delusion. They say, their elixir of immor*- 
tality has not yet been fairly tried, and that some aristocratick 
patients stopped breathing only to effect the disgrace of their 
nostrums. They would give a whole nation a quietus at once, 
if they could only persuade them to swallow some liquor of 
long life, some restorative pill, or some powder, that is to 
sweeten the blood. Accordingly, the jacobin papers even yet 
manifest, how little they learn from the direful experience of 
France ; for even ijet they dare to call the success of French 
arms, the cause of liberty and republicanism. Whether we 
have any fools left, who still flounder in this confusion of mind, 
is more than I know ; but many jacobins, it is certain, still 
claim credit for their sincerity to that amazing extent of mfatu- 
ation. 

FrAxMce is the only state in Europe completely military: 
they are now what the Turks lately were, all soldiers, or all 
liable to be made soldiers. Their spirits have been wrovight 
lip by eight years of war, by revolution, and by the excesses 
of what our mobocrats call liberty, into a ferment, equal to 
that of the ancient crusaders. No state could be safe, while 
France had the power to disturb them ; and every state that 
thought itself safe in inaction has fallen : the only powers 
that yet stand, are those that resisted Avith courage. France 
has not changed ; the danger to other nations is not less, and 
the only path to safety is thorny and perilous : it is to be 
trodden in arms. Mithridates, Antiochus, Perseus, the Eto- 
lian and Achaean leagues were successively lost, either by 
seeking an alliance with ancient Rome, or by neglecting the 



THE OBSERVER. 155 

obvious policy of confederating with other states in like peril : 
Perseus allied with Autiochus, or Mithridates with Sertorius, 
might have saved the world from servitude. France now 
claims empire, and will not bear rivalship. Austria and Eng- 
land can have no peace : they will fail, unless their arms should 
so far cripple their foe, as to disable him from prosecuting 
his scheme of universal dominion. France is as revolutionary 
as ever : Buonaparte keeps down jacobinism at home, bvit it 
deeply concerns him to stir it up in every other state, where 
Fi'ench influence is wanted. Jacobinism is, therefore, more 
than ever to be dreaded by England and Austria, because its 
operations in France are more artfully disguised by the govern- 
ment. It is more than ever to be dreaded in America, because 
the moment approaches, when its success can be turned to 
immediate account. What event could ever happen more 
auspicious to her views, than to have an administration that 
would bend the laws and commercial systems of this country 
to the policy of that ? Mr. Madison's famous commeixial reso- 
lutions were grounded on the idea of making America useful 
as a colony to France ; not how we should make our trade the 
most useful to ourselves. The New-England merchants had 
sense enough to understand this delusive, this disgraceful poli- 
cy, and spurned at it. They will do it again, if it should be 
repeated. We are still wanted by France, and to have tis, she 
must spread jacobinism. It might, and would help her to 
rule our citizens, though, if suffered to prevail in France, it 
might hinder Buonaparte from quietly ruling Frenchmen at 
home. 



t 1^6 ] 



SKETCHES OF THE STATE OP EUROPE 

N°. I. 
First puhhshcd in the Palladium, MarrI,, 1801. 

A H E policy and conduct of the French, since the commcnce- 
liient of their revolution, exhibit very little of novelty, except 
in the degrees of political intrigue, and revolutionary cruelty 
and injustice. Wrought up almost to a state of phrenzy by 
an unexampled combination of circumstances and events, they 
have applied principles and adopted practices with a skill and 
ardour, which have hitherto rendered them the terrour and 
scourge of Europe. As this revolution has, at different peri- 
ods, involved the interests, and called forth the exertions of 
almost all the European powers, it will be necessary to look 
at their designs and relative positions at its commencement. 

A SENSE of common danger, and those laws, which, in 
peace and war, have ahvays regulated the great republick of 
the European states, impelled them to check, by force of 
arms, the progress of that revolutionary system, which was 
wasting France and threatening the rest of Europe. Accord- 
ingly, Prussia, Austria, Spain, Holland, and England, at an 
early period, united to repress the spirit of jacobinism, and, by 
timely and vigorous exertions, hoped to obtain security to 
themselves, and restore tranquillity to France. But, in spite 
of all opposition, her armies penetrated into Flolland, Germany, 
and Italy. In the management of this war France has imitat- 
ed the policy of the Romans, in detaching members of con- 
federacies against them, from their allittnce. Sensible that 
the united exertions of Europe would disable them from pro- 
pagating their principles and extending their territory, they 
felt the necessity of separating the allied powers to accomplish 
their ambitious projects. Of course, jealousies were excited 
among them, separate interests were brought into view, the 
blind pursuit of which tended to ruin the common cause by 



SKETCHES OF THE STATE OF EUROPE. 157 

diverting the collected energies of the coalition. The king of 
Prussid, jealous of the house of Avxstria, and ixluctant to con- 
tribute to its aggrandizement, soon*entered into negotiations 
for a separate peace, and, by scrupulously watching the inter- 
nal state of his dominions, and maintaining a military force 
ready to act as occasion might require, has ever since been 
able to support his authority at home, and hold a neutral posi- 
tion in the midst of contending nations. Holland, spiritless 
and panick-struck at the successes and power of France,- yield- 
ed, with a feeble struggle, her resources and liberties into the 
hands of French robbers and tyrants, Avho have, at length, 
broken her ancient spirit, and still continue to drill and Avhip 
her to the performance of the most humiliating services for 
the great nation. Spain, paralyzed with fear, and v/illing to 
make any sacrifices to preserve life, broke from the confede- 
racy in defiance of the most solemn treaties, and, like Holland, 
submitted herself to the unqualified disposal of France. 

But here it may be asked, why have the French permitted 
the church and the throne to rest quietly upon their ancient 
foundations ? The destruction of kings and priests, is the first 
article in the revolutionary code : why then have they not plant- 
ed the tree of libeily in Madrid, and pi'oclaimed the downfal 
of civil and ecclesiastical tyranny ? Upon the ruin of these, they 
have founded their claim to superiour light and wisdom. In 
every other country, where, by arts and arms, they have obtain- 
ed a permanent footing, exisling establishments have been sub- 
verted, and constitutions made after the newest fashion imposed 
upon the people, for which nothing has been demanded but 
submission, gratitude, and the " simple tithe of all they had." 
Some powerful reasons, therefore, must have dictated a line 
of policy so opposite to their professions and feelings, and so 
different from that, which, in other countries, they have inva- 
luably pursued. It is not probable, that the French were, at 
any time, doubtful of success in an enterprise against Spain 
and Portugal. An army of thirty thousand men was drawn 
out, and a general appointed to lead them through Spain to 
the heart of Portugal ; but motives of policy checked the enter- 



%SS SiCETCHES OF THE 

Jjiise, and led France to employ her armies, where their sue- 
xesses would not be followed by equal or superiour advantage 
to her enemies. It was foreseen, that if Spain should be revo- 
lutionized, the commerce of her colonies in the West-Indies 
and upon the continent would greatly increase the power of 
England, and more than balance the accession of strength 
which would be gained from the plunder of Portugal. Had 
the project for breaking up the ancient establishments of Spain, 
and weakening the allies by the destruction of Portugal, been 
carried into effect, the Spanish and Portuguese colonies would 
have thrown off their dependence upon the mother countries, 
tind assumed tlie station of independent states, or put themselves 
under the protection of England or the United States. In eith- 
er case, England would have felt, that her sineivs qfivar ivo-e 
made stronger, and her ability of continuing it increased. Such, 
then, have been the motives, which, while they have deterred 
the French from adding Spain and Portugal to the list of new 
republicks, have manifested the hollowness of their professions, 
and their deep-laid schemes of unlimited domination. 

While the French were hot in the pursuit of conquest, a 
grand alliance, in which the Russian emperour was to put forth 
his energies, was formed for the purpose of driving the French 
from Italy in a single campaign, and of carrying the war inta 
France. It is probable, that the emperour Paul engaged with 
as disinterested views, as those of any member of the confede- 
racy, and with a determination to restore the ancient govern- 
ment of France. Suwarrow, a perfect master in all the schemes 
and artifices of war, who alone knew to lead Russian troops to 
victory, was entrusted with the chief command. In a few 
months he broke the force of the French in Italy, and pro- 
ceeded to the conquest of Switzerland. But here an untoward 
combination of circumstances defeated his designs, and com- 
pelled him to retreat. The Austrians failed in the execution 
of that part of the plan assigned to them ; the army in Swit- 
zerland under the command of Hotze had been routed, and 
Hotze himself killed, by the unexpected descent of the army 
rtf Lecourbe and Massena from the Alps ; and the troops of 



STATE OP EUROPE. 1S5' 

Suwarrow, exhausted and without supplies, were? obliged to save 
themselves by flight. Suwarrow was extremely exasperated at 
the conduct of the Austrians, and, although the Russians co- 
operated with the English in an unsuccessful expedition to 
Holland, the retreat of Suwarrow from SAvitzerland seeins to 
have been the first step towards the secession of Paul from 
the coalition. Here was given a fair opportunity for court in- 
trigue to interpose, and represent the partiality of the English 
for the Austrians, the mercenary views of the house of Austria, 
manifested in a disposition to make no sacrifice of private inter- 
ests for the sake of the common cause. Paul, naturally capricious, 
being led to suspect that the allies meant to weaken his power 
by employing his troops as mercenaries against France, with- 
drew from the alliance with indignation. At this time, it is 
probable that his attention was diverted with the idea of extend- 
ing his dominions in Turkey. 

Notwithstanding Austria has been often charged with, 
selfish and mercenary views in the conduct of the war, it may 
be doubted, whether, previous to the secession of Paul, she 
acted inconsistent with the best interests of the coalition. Her 
taking possession of the reconquered places in Italy might have 
been with the view of thi'owing into them such forces, as would 
have formed a barrier to the future progress of the French : 
in themselves, they were feeble and needed protection, and the 
interests of the alliance pi'obably demanded, that they should 
be secured from the grasp of their enemies. 



SKETCHES OP THE STATE OF EUROPE. 

N°. n. 

THE change of the politicks of Russia, is one of the chief 
fects to attract attention. Whether this change originated 
frona mere whim and fickleness of temper of the emperour, 
or from deep views of future advantage to Russia, we know 
very little, and the little that we do know affoi'ds no \^ery satis- 
factory ground even for conjecture. Politically spe/aking. 



160 SKETCHES OF THE 

Russia, as u member of the European state, is still an undisr 
covered country : it is an empire so vast, so new, so motley, 
and so barbarous, it is such a Babel, whose tongues are yet so 
confounded, a gigantick infant,, that changes so often by its 
growth, and so much oftcner by its caprice, time is doing so 
much, and accident so much more, to give it a determinate 
impression and character, that no one has cause to be ashamed 
of his ignorance of its politicks. It is, perhaps, after all a 
question, whether Paul is not as rash as his father, Peter the 
third, in his conduct, and whether a revolution, like that which 
dethroned his father in 1762, will not soon happen. 

Be that as it may, it is impossible to look at the present 
position of the great European powers without being struck 
with (his contrast: in 1793, all were joined with Great Britain 
in opposition to Finance, now all are leagued in opposition to 
Great Britain. Perhaps it will be seen again, that a single 
power is an overmatch for a confederacy. 

The pretexts of Russia, to justify this new system, are 
frivolous ; for the British dominion of the seas is no grievance 
to Russia. Sweden, and Denmark are mere satellites, and act 
only as they are acted upon. Russia has no commerce to be 
cramped by searches. Its industry is little, its tradmg capital 
less, and its mercantile navigation nothing. Besides, the very- 
British men of war, that thus rule the seas, are furnished with 
Russian hemp, and cordage, and iron. The pretext, therefore, 
amounts to nothing more, than that the English are their best 
customers for naval stores. Lazy and poor nations must de- 
pend on such as are industrious and rich ; but it is absurd to 
say that Russia is or can be the i-ival of England. A man 
barefoot is no rival of the shoemaker ; a naked man in a cold 
climate mvist depend on the woollen-draper. Russia sells a 
superfluity, that it cannot use nor work up, and that nobody 
would pay for, if England did not. Commercially speaking, 
therefore, it seems obvious and certain, that the interests of 
Russia are not pursued or regarded by the authors of the war. 

But great nations make light of the affair of gain or loss in 
trade, a> hen political considerations intervene ; for if England 



STATE OF EUROPE. 161 

did not rule the ocean, Russia could not : it would be France, 
the little finger of whose despotisin would be found thicker 
than the British loins. Russia must have other motives. 

Turkey has been long a defenceless prey to any of the 
powerful states, and would long ago have been devoured, if 
the^r mutual jealousy had not delayed her fate. There has 
been no period, since the Turks took Constantinople, in 1453, 
when it was so easy for Russia to conquer the European pro- 
vinces of this paralytick empire. The rulers of France, at all 
other times interested to save Turkey, have now no objects 
but such as are personal and temporary. Buonaparte would be 
glad to say to Paul, let me alone, do you conquer on your side, 
I wish to meet with none of your interruption in conquering 
on mine. France is at war with Turkey, and eager to esta- 
blish her colony in Egypt, Austria is beaten, and England has 
her hands full ; it would not be strange, therefore, if Paul 
should be found to look for the recompense of his war with 
England in the conquest of the Greek provinces, or in a treaty 
with the Porte tftat would assure to him their final subjection. 
This is but conjecture, perhaps not plausible. The second 
son of tiie emperour Paul is named Constantine, and was 
taught Greek to gain the affections of his intended subjects: 
this fact has long been well-known. Europe is a gaming table, 
where the bets are often shifted, and sometimes the players 
as well as the luck. There is scarcely any thing that we are 
not to expect to see staked by the gamesters ; especially as 
they make no scruple, as in the case of Venice, to play for 
what is none of their own. 

It is natural to ask, whether England can face a world in 
arms. That armed world is very far from her happy island, 
and while she triumphs on the seas, they must keep their 
distance. Famine might enrage her labouring people and con- 
vulse her within ; but the government is active in its measures 
to prevent that evil. The contest is, therefore, left to the trial 
of her resources. These ai'e wonderful, and the exclusive 
empire and commerce of the seas will not ultimately lessen 
them. It is a splendid lesson to America of the energies that 
21 



162 * SKETCHES OF THE 

industry, and such a government as will protect its earnings, 
can command. Our free republican government, we trust, is 
such a government ; and we hope our new rulers will not hate 
commerce, as a New-England gold mine, nor check it, lest the 
monied interest, as the democrats call the proceeds of trade 
and fisheries, should surpass and outweigh the landed interest, 
as they call -the tobacco planters, God's chosen jieoplc-) if ever 
he had a chosen fieojile. 

Great events are to be looked for, and, whatever they may 
be, it is wise policy and obvious duty for our government to 
disentangle our politicks from France, who wants to use our 
strength, and to cherish as much as possible the commercial 
spirit that will inake America rich by industry, and thus to gain 
strength, while Europe grows poor by war. Happy shall we 
be, if, while we gain riches, we do not lose our spirit, and if 
peace abroad shall not embitter dissentions at home. 

In this momentous contest between Great Britain and the 
numerous foes who have joined with France against her, it is 
probable, that the profits of our commerce will be enlarged, 
and the danger of our being forced into the war much lessen- 
ed. If Britain, however, should be very unsuccessful, vVe might 
then expect France would a second time require us, as Genet 
did before, to vindicate our neutral rights by arms : in other 
words, to fight her enemy in her cause. It seems to be, there- 
fore, as clear as the noonday sun, that our interest, our peace, 
and our commercial liberty require, that France should not, by 
humbling and weakening England, be able to take the high 
ground to command America to join her. We know, that 
France would do it in a day, if she had, which, thank God ! 
she has not, the means to enforce her commands. 

It is a singular proof of the utter want of all patriotism in 
the violent spirit of jacobinism, that the Aurora and Chronicle 
are incessantly exhibiting the triumphs of France as the se- 
curity of America, and the overthrow of the Bi'itish dominion 
of the sea as our triumph and final emancipation. Fhis is 
senseless and absurd beyond measure. France has no enemy 
that can face her at land. The British naval power is a coiui- 



STATE OF EUROPE. 163 

terpoise. Each of these nations is thus a check on the other, 
and both court friends among the powers who could help or 
hinder their operations. Some little respect is thus procured 
for neutrality ; whereas, if England were beaten at sea as 
completely as Austria is at land, France would domineer 
both on sea and land ; the civilized world would be subject 
instantly to a despotisin, as arrogant, as rapacious, as unfeel- 
ing as that of Rome : her arms would be vigorously employed 
to spread her power from the Ganges to the Ohio. 

The Aurora and Chronicle are desired to notice these 
sentiments, and they are invited to represent them as the 
proofs of partiality for Britain, and of the force of British 
influence : there are many hundreds of their readers weak 
enough to accept such proofs as demonstrations. It would 
be easy to retort on the jacobins, that their aversion to admit 
such ideas is a clear indication, that they love France well 
enough to help her to be the universal despot, and that they 
love America so little they would rejoice to see her the 
satellite of that despot. It is obvious, that the security of 
feeble states must depend on the power of the great states 
being balanced and divided ; and those Americans, who can 
deliberately wish to see Britain conquered at sea, must be 
traitors or fools. 7 

In the course of this great contest, facts and principles are 
established of the most momentous concern to all indepen- 
dent nations. The first leading observation is, that wretched 
is the condition of subjects, when the state itself is small and 
feeble. Holland had no patriotism, because its strength was 
little, and division and discord made that little less. It has 
been a prey, and its wealth has been squeezed out by taxes 
openly laid to fill the French treasury. A tax of ten per 
cent, on income, excepting the poorer classes, who were to 
be used as sans culottes, was imposed in the first year of 
their slavery, six per cent, of which was for France. The 
rich were declared lawful prize ; and France, the captor, 
divided the spoil, like the lion in the fable. Switzerland, and 



^ 164 SKETCHES OF THE 

the Italian republicks and states, exhibit the wretchedness ol; 
the people, where the publick force is feeble. 

Another observation is, that, where the executive autho- 
rity is weak, patriotism is extinct. Holland was uneasy, 
because the stadtholder was the first magistrate. But, had 
the execution of the laws been diily intrusted to him, he 
would have resisted foreign influence with better success 
than he did : the Dutch would not have lost their patriotism, 
before they lost their country. Switzerland was more than 
half conquered, before it was invaded. England, on the con- 
trary, has made it dangerous to be a traitor ; and neither 
France nor England allows faction to grow formidable before 
it is crushed. 

Again, we must remark, how much less resistance is 
made by states that are confederated, or broken up into 
separate sovereignties, as Germany, Italy, and Switzerland, 
than by such as, like France and England, are one and in- 
divisible. Every Frenchman, in this country, has been a 
stickler for state sovereignty ; and, in Finance, every French- 
man has cried, no federalism, the republick one and indivisi- 
ble. Accordingly, France has taken care to make her neigh- 
bours weak and dependent, by clipping and slicing their ter- 
ritory into petty republicks : she will not suffer any body to 
be great but herself. Germany formerly kept the legions of 
Rome at bay, and now it is overrun in one campaign ; yet 
Germany is scarcely less populous or warlike than France. 
Italy has done nothing ; but her petty sovereigns have waited 
the event of battles, to see who should be their masters. 
Switzerland has done nothing worthy of her liberty and an- 
cient glory. 

Is it not, therefore, to be hoped, that, if great changes 
must be violently made in Europe, they will be chiefly such 
as will consolidate the monstrous confederations of many 
heads without a common body or one soul, and that the 
smaller powers will be formed into great states, so as to 



STATE OF EUROPE. 165 

increase the future security for the libei'ty, and independence, 
and happiness of their subjects. i 

We take occasion to declare, however, that we are not 
desirous to see the American separate state powers attacked. 
As they are, let them remain, till experience suggests changes, 
and the people are freely willing to make them. We do not 
pretend, however, that a discerning patriot ought not to ap- 
prehend the ambitious abuse, that faction is trying to make of 
the powers of the great states, Pennsylvania and Virginia, and 
of the disturbance, foreign influence, and consequent weakness 
of the national force. This point is of late much better under- 
stood in New-England. 



[ 166 ] 



PHOCION. N°. I. 

riRST PUBLISHED IN THE PALLADIUM, APRIL, 1801. 

BRITISH INFLUENCE. 
British influence is a phrase commonly enough used by 
the jacobins without any meaning, or without any that is pre- 
cise. They hate the federalists, and they have some unknown 
and incommunicable reasons for it, which are at once conveyed, 
without being defined, by charging them with acting under 
British influence. 

Correct inquirers will, however, ask for definitions. Ltflu- 
e7ice, then let it be said, is fiolitical /wiver, and is exerted to 
modify or coritrol, or fir event the fublick measures of the Ame- 
rican nation. It maybe the private opinion of a few scholars, 
that the English government is excellent in its principles, and 
favourable to that sort of healthful, long-lived liberty, that 
grows hardy by braving labours, and perils, and storms, and 
that it will probably survive, and be in its youth, twenty ages 
after the ephemeral despotisms of France are lost in oblivion. 
These individual opinions, if they are erroneous, or extrava- 
gant, or obnoxious to popular prejudices, are not of a sort to 
influence the publick measures of this country. They never 
have done it ; they have never been popular opinions, and of 
course have never had political influence. Nor is it material, 
that some persons still respect England as the land of our 
fathers' sepulchres. 

They may think, that the early principles and institutions, 
in which the first settlers of New-England were educated in 
England, and which they brought over and planted here, entitle 
that nation to our respectful remembrance. If even the Eng- 
lish character should impress some respect, as being sincei'e, 
generous, and benevolent, if their magnanimous spirit in war, 
their strict and impartial administration of justice, their enter- 



PHOCION. 167 

prise in commerce, their ingenuity in the arts, and the renown 
of their poets, statesmen, and philosophers, should, in the eyes 
of some admirers, throw a lustre over the British name, yet, 
let it be remembered, those admirers are not numerous. They 
dare not avow, that such are tlieir sentiments. No, though we 
sprung from English parents, the only language that can be 
used, without the risk of persecution, is that of rage, abhor- 
rence, and contempt. At the hazard of disgracing our own 
pedigree, we are summoned, six times a week, in the jacobin 
gazettes, to treat the British subjects as the slaves of a tyrant, 
whose spirit is as wretched as their lot. The publick opinion 
is certainly not that of attachment to England ; and it is the 
firevailing popular sentiment'only that can influence the mea- 
sures of our government. 

If Britain then has influence^ or, in other words, political 
power, it must be exerted in some other way, and by some 
other instruments than such as we have mentioned. 

The base will say, and the base will believe, that Britain has 
gold enough to buy friends and to carry a vote in congress as 
often as her interests require the expense. A charge of this 
nature seldom needs proof, or is much shaken by confutation. 
The base will believe it without proof. They will consider 
congress as a market, where virtue is for sale, and, if they look 
into their own hearts, they will find nothing there to discredit 
the evidence of such a traffick, or to enhance the terms of the 
bargain. Integrity and honour are sounding words, and they, 
who would pay a price according to the sound, are welcome to 
the substance. They consider all virtue as a thmg not wanted 
for their own use, but as a false jewel, to be disposed of to the 
best customers. Of all men I have ever known, the jacobins 
have the worst opinion of human nature. An honest discharge 
of duty in any station, is a thing incredible, because with them 
it is incomprehensible. Accordingly, they begin with accusa- 
tions and calumnies of the foulest sort, and call upon us to 
shew that they ai-e not true ; as if the burden of proof did not 
rest on the accusers, but the accused. 



168 PHOCION. 

AiTER having charged Washington, Adams, Hamilton, 
Pickering, Wolcott, and others, with being^ British pardzans, 
they assume the charge as a sentence judicially pronounced 
and established, and affect to consider all solicitude to repel it 
as an indication of a consciousness of guilt : the gulled jade 
winces, they will say. But even this burden of proof, however 
unfairly imposed, may be fearlessly assumed by the friends of 
the federal administration of our government. 

It is proper to remark to the men who are observers of 
human nature, that of all kinds of influence the first for igno- 
rant and vulgar minds to suspect, is downright bribery and cor- 
ruption ; it is, nevertheless, the last for even the profligate and 
shameless to yield to. It is so coarse an instrument, that it 
seldom answers the purpose. There are instances, and one is 
said to have happened during our revolution, where a man, 
who wanted integrity, made an outcry, when he had it in his 
power to brag that it had been tempted. More than half the 
indictments for rapes, are founded on the charges of women 
of no virtue. There is so much shame in yielding to the offer 
of a bribe, and so much glory in refusing it, that the latter is 
often the better and more tempting bribe, which determines 
the conduct. 

Sir Robert Walpole, the celebrated English minister, is said 
to have been a master in the art of corruption ; but when pub- 
lick opinion was decided strongly for or against a measure, as 
in the cases of the excise, the Jew bill, if I mistake not, and 
the cruelties of the Spanish guarda-costas, his gold and his art 
failed to secure a majority in parliament. In the late attempt 
to unite Great Britain and Ireland, the project, in spite of 
ministerial influence, was at first rejected by the Irish com- 
mons. The publick reasons were strong, the publick good 
plainly called for the union ; yet passion and prejudice oppos- 
ed the measure. Ireland, by the union, seemed to be lost and 
swallowed up ; and this secret dread, this inward horrour, of 
sinking into nothing, outweighed all the forcible national argu- 
ments in favour of the measure. It may be added, that the 
members felt a like decline of their own weight and influence. 



niOCION. 1)59 

It may, therefore, be said, with sir Robert Walpole, that it is 
hard to bribe members even to do their duty, and to vote 
accordinj; to their consciences : much less can they be bribed 
to vote against them, or rather against the known voice of the 
nation. 

All experience shews, that to get a bad measure adopted, 
when it is popular, is easy ; to get a good one is ever hard, 
against the current of even the most absurd and groundless 
popular clamour. The side, therefore, to look for corrupt 
influence is ever the popular side, because that is the unsus- 
pected, and yet the dark side : members, in that case, can be 
pi'aised for acting against duty. As many are willing to yield 
their principles, who cannot part with their reputution, the 
occasions are frequent, when members prefer acting so as to 
please the people instead of serving them. 

The current of popularity has ever been anti-British, it has 
ever been dangerously French. From hence it follows, that 
bribes could not have been employed without great difficulty, 
nor with much effect on the British side, nor without a great 
deal of effect on the French side : there was a general wil- 
lingness to be deceived in regard to France. Mr. Monroe's 
unexampled assurances, that Americans would submit to cap- 
tures, and rejoice in their losses, if it would serve the republick, 
and Mr. Gerry's unaccountable, and yet unexplained lingering 
in Paris, ai'e proofs how deep-rooted and general the prejudice 
is in favour of the French. 

It will be asked, also, if bribes were given by England, ivfiQ 
was bribed ? Washington ratified the treaty ; was he bribed ? 
Was the senate and a majority of the house of representatives ? 
If that is true, or only suspected, the democrats, who suspect 
it, ought to go to France to enjoy " the pure morals of the 
republick," instead of living in a country so corrupt, and, as 
Fauchet said, so early decrepid. 

It is confessed, these are observations which tarnish a news- 
paper : they dishonour America, and yet the files of the 
democratick gazettes repeat their audacious slanders of Bri- 
tish influence, in a style to extort a careful and circumstantial 
22 



170 PHOcioisr, 

examination of the charge. What will foreigners think, what 
will honest and yet uncornipted Americans believe of their ne\f 
government, such as free elections have made it, such as Wash- 
ington administered and left it, that, after twelve prosperous 
years, it is scarcely tolerated ; nay, it is 720t tolei'ated, for it is 
taken from the hands of its old friends to put it into othci- 
hands; it is arraigned at the tar like a culprit, and ctJled to 
plead to a charge of bribery and corruption. If those who ivill 
rail could reason, the scandalous necessity qf this vindication 
would not be wholly useless : it would come out of the fire of 
accusation the brighter for the trial. But thei'e is as much 
levity as malice in the jacobins : they forget the lie and the 
confutation, and when the Chronicle repeats the lie, it is ever 
fi-csh and unconfuted. 



PHOCION. N°. II. 

^ Bntish Influence. 

BRITISH influence, it has been shewn, could scarcely 
operate at all in the way of bribes. Even if members would 
sell themselves to a British emissaiy, let it be considered, 
how few occasions could be sought or found to earn the wages 
of iniquity. Unless their conduct was popular, they would 
lose their seats, and it would be necessary every two years 
to buy a fresh set. It is, therefore, clear, that British gold 
could not buy influence against the course of popular preju- 
dices ; and if populai-ity were once gained, there would be no 
need of bribing votes. Pretty good sort of men, we know, 
will work for populaiity ; very bad men could not work to any 
effect for wages against it. Let it be remembered, that a 
famous democratick member on the floor of congress once 
said, when the French minister applied for anticipation of an 
instalment of the French debt, before it was due, and there 
was no money in the United States' treasury to pay more than 
the current expenses and the interest of the publick debt: 
There •would be no merit in paying only ivhcn it was diie^ and 



PHOCION. 171 

nuhen it ivas convenient to /my : he rejoiced^ he said, that America 
eould strain her irn-ans, and hazard something to shew her grati- 
tude. Bribery did not buy this sentiment, base as it was ; nor, 
had it been unpopular, could money have bought it, for then 
its intrinsick baseness would have blasted the speaker. 

It is the people, who are to be bribed, influenced, and cor- 
rupted. It is their folly, their prejudice, their best feelings, 
and their worst, that are to be tampered with. A lie in the 
Chronicle goes Cirther than a guinea, and ten can be coined 
and pushed into cvu'rency, before even *** could be eniisted. 
This is the lever to pry the world out of its orbit. This is 
the power of necromancy, that can conjure spirits from the 
deep, and they will come and dwell in Marlborough and in 
Cambridge. The passions of the people are the engines of 
influence ; and he who can move them seems to have the 
faculty of working miracles. A stupid Chronicle, whose his- 
tory is false, whose argument is sophistry, seemingly too flimsy 
to gull the mob, whose sneers always want wit, and whose 
malice seems to be too blind to choose or to exercise its 
weapons, even this wretched Chronicle, which one would think 
has not vivacity enough to interest fools, nor talent enough to 
satisfy its knaves, has influence, and it is French influence. 
Somniferous as it is, yet,'iike the wand of Mercury, it has the 
power to compel the spirits of a multitude. 

But from speculative reasoning, let us tuiTi our attention 
to facts. Is there one measure of the govei'nment, in which 
British influence has manifested itself: it would be silly to 
suppose, that votes were bought to be lost. In what act has a 
partiality for Great Britain appeared ? Surely our impost act 
affords no such pi'oof : American manufactures are deservedly 
preferred. This would be a tender point for British partizans 
to push. And be it remembered, the opposers of such prefer- 
ence of our own manufactures were, first to last, the Southern 
jacobins. Had British gold been used for British purposes, 
the federalists could have gratified their opposers by yielding 
this point ; but they did not, and would not yield it. A point 
no less dear to Great Britain is her carrying trade. That was 



in PHOCION. 

carried by federal votes to prefer American bottoms, and the 
preference was carried so far, that some sound friends to our 
naAdgaling interest were afraid of making a counteraction by 
the British government. Does this look like British influence ? 
If Britain had any thing at heart, it was this ; yet the very 
clamorers abovxt British influence were the opposers of these 
mcvisures. What did they do ? They wished to prefer French 
fabricks and French bottoms to British ; and this would have 
placed the burden of encouraging French manufactures and 
shipping, as a tax on the consumers and shippers in America. 
Does not this look like foreign influence with a vengeance ? 
"When Britain captured our vessels, in 1794, the federalists 
were the only men, who said, negotiate first, prepare revenue, 
ships, and troops, and if we cannot get justice, then fight. This 
was Hamilton's plan, and all the fedei'al members acted upon it. 
The opposers of this plan were the accusing jacobins. They 
said, no ships, nor troops, nor taxes : let New-England fit out 
privateers ; we will confiscate : that is our sort of resolution 
and patriotism. Does not this fact, so authentick and solemn, 
as well as recent, speak to the memory of the people, that if 
foreign influence prevails, it is not among federalists that it 
prevails. There is not a naked tribe in Guinea, whose spirit 
is baser, or has yielded with more servile cowardice to foreign 
inflvience, than the conduct of the democrats has manifested 
towards France ; yet these are the accusers. Shame, if it had 
not lost its power on these men, Avould strike them dumb with 
confusion. Is there any point, that any administration, even 
Washington's, could have yielded to Britain, so debasing as 
the surrender of the ships captured from France ? There is no 
condition of disgrace below it : without being vanquished, we 
agree to pass under the yoke. 

On a review of the long series of publick measures, there 
is none that bears the aspect of British influence. There has 
been no attempt even to prefer any foreign nation to America, 
except in favour of France. That shameless attempt, always 
baffled, is still renewed ; and Buonaparte and his admirers still 
hope, that we shall be French enough to enter the lists against 



PHOCION. 173 

Great Britain, to assert the absurd novelties called the modern 
law of nations. 

Facts do not lie. They speak plainly, that there has been 
no political power to control or prevent the measures of our 
government, possessed or exercised by Britain. Yet this evi- 
dence will not silence or abash the impudence of the demo- 
cratick slanderers of our government : credulity will still be 
a dupe, nor will detection spoil the game of imposture. 



PHOCION. N°. III. 

British Influence. 

IT is not their only reason, but it is one of very great effica- 
cy with the politicians of the Virginia school, for exciting and 
diffusing an aversion to the commercial system, that our com- 
merce is carried on by the help of British capital, and that, as 
the trade increases, the mass of debt due to British merchants 
goes on augmenting. Hence they assure us, that our trade 
with England is a fruitful source both of corruption and depen- 
dence. Nay, these apostles from the race-ground and the 
cock-pit tremble for our republican morals, so much exposed 
to the contagion of our intercourse with the manners and fash- 
ions, the books and institutions of a corrupted monarchy. The 
word monarchy is of course a substitute for argument, and its 
overmatch : many hundreds will condemn the task, as equally 
bold and mischievous, of the writer, who shall presume to 
think, that we may deal with the subjects of a king, and make 
estates, Avithout making a set of king, lords, and bishops for 
ourselves. 

There is a previous question : are we more likely to become, 
from observation, monarchy-men, than the citizens of London 
are to adopt the maxims of our democracies ? Perhaps it will 
appear, that our danger is not so great as theirs. Democracy, 
by indulging the fervours of the popular spirit, is more dispos- 
ed to imbibe a zeal for proselytism. The everlasting bustle 
of our elections, the endless disputations and harangues of 



174 PHOCION. 

demagogues, keep our spirits half the time smoking and 
ready to kindle, and the other half in a blaze. Zeal is ever 
contagious, and, accordingly, the only political propagandists now 
in the Avorld are the democrats. The monarchists have less 
to do in the concerns of their government, and talk and wran- 
gle less about it. The spirit of subordination they have ; that 
of proseiytism they have not. When life, liberty, and property 
are protected, they are contented, although their system should 
appear to speculatists inferiour in its theory to the best of all 
possible governments. Some men among us, and some of our 
scribbling countrymen abroad, have been modest and wise 
enough to imagine, that all the kings and ministers in Europe 
were watching our republican administration with eyes of fear 
and jealousy. The jacobin newspapers have assured us, that 
all kings sleep unquietly, and are visited with horrid dreams, 
because we are republicans. In 1794, "the Solomons in 
" council" then advised us to cling to sister Fx'ance, as the 
only power, able, and, being a republick, ivilling to save us from 
a royal coalition. The fact is, foreign statesmen have not 
regarded Ameiica as much as they ought : we can see more 
evident marks of their neglect than their dread of us. 

But the other part of this common-place threadbare proof 
of the preponderance of British influence remains to be con- 
sidered. We employ British capitals, and, therefore, as the 
borrower is servant to the lender, they say, we are but passive 
instruments in the hands of our creditors. There is no country, 
where capital is employed to so manifest and lasting advantage 
as in the United States, because there is none, where the 
objects of employment so much exceed the amount of capital 
to be employed. When we give five or six per cent, for Bri- 
tish capital, and employ it at eight, ten, or in some branches 
of trade, at twenty, or when it is occupied in clearing a wilder- 
ness almost boundless, and filling it with houses and settlers, 
the augmentation of our wealth is obvious. The real estate of 
the nation, that wliich must belong to posterity, is also prodi- 
giously increased : every year some hundred thousand acres of 
new cleared land are added to the pasturage and wheat fields. 



PHOCION. 175 

Yet these advantages, great as they are, would be too dearly 
purchased, if Great Britain derived a political influence ovef 
our government fiom the operations of her w^ealthy capitalists. 
It is not easy to see how she obtains a control over our 
publick measures, from her subjects permitting our mer- 
chants, and speculators, and land-jobbers to acquire a control 
over their wealth. Of all men the jacobins ought to abstain 
from saying, that this is the influence of Britain over our go- 
vernment. They avow principles in regard to publick faith and 
the rights of British creditors, that manifestly place British 
property, intrusted to the safe -keeping of our laws, at the 
mercy of a confiscating majority of congress, if, to the scan- 
dal of America, such a majority should be there. British 
capital, deposited in Algiers, would be considered as a pledge 
held by the Dey, liable to forfeiture in case the British govern- 
ment should give him occasion of offence. With ideas so 
honourable to America, principles so truly Algerine, that 
they would be nets to catch unwary Englishmen, it is truly 
astonishing, that the jacobins should mistake so grossly as 
to call this a source of British influence. One of their 
objections to the treaty was, that it stipulates security to 
this booty, and restrains congress from privateering ashore 
and before a declaration of war. 

The British creditor, who claims his debt against a citi- 
zen, is dependent on the justice of our laws. All the injluence 
that he or his government can desire in the case, is just 
payment ; if more is demanded, surely our juries will be 
protectors of the rights of the debtor. Any honest American 
will blush, if it is suggested, that British influence will be 
necessary to prevent the denial of justice. 

This brings us to consider the supposed influence arising 
fronn the claims of British creditors. This is a question to 
be tested by experience. If political power has followed 
British debts, then the greatest display and most flagrant 
abuse of that power is to be expected in the states, where 
there is the largest arrear of debt. Yet in Virginia, which 



ire FHocioN. 

owes fifty times as much as Connecticut, the British influ- 
ence has never been great enough to obtain payment, while 
Connecticut allows an Englishman to exact it without reluc- 
tance or impediment. So liir is Virginia from having been 
enslaved by the British creditors, that her state laws have 
been framed and administered so as to exclude lands, and I 
believe, in effect, if not expressly, negroes from the opera- 
tion of process. A man might be a debtor there thousands 
of pounds more than his estate would discharge, and live a 
life of ease and luxury, defying British creditors and cursing 
British influence, go to congress a patriot fiercer than a 
dragon for liberty and equal rights. 

Who does not know, that many of the states were in the 
hands of debtors, who made laws to keep off creditors ? Who 
is ignorant, that the constitution contains an article to restrain 
such laws, and that this article soured into fermentation the 
leaven of anti-federalism at first, and of jacobinism since ? 
The great planters could not endure it, that equal justice 
should strip them of the pre-eminence that they derived 
from their lands, and that the laws, made for their own con- 
venience, had so long secured to them. So far have British 
debts been fi'om creating British influence, that they have 
given rise to the most rancorous hatred. Happy will it be, if 
the Northern people are not, in the end, made victims of that 
hatred ; if a system of irritation should not be cunningly de- 
vised, and blindly adopted, that New-England may be strip- 
ped of its earnings by captuies, and that Virginia debts may 
be wiped off by an unnecessary British war. 



PHOCION. N°. IV./ 

Britisli Influence. 

THE first settlers of the British Northern colonies were 
Englishmen. Most new settlements are first peopled by the 
outcasts and scum of the mother country ; but New-England 



PHOCION. XT7 

can boast, that its ancestors were Englishmen, which, I con- 
fess, I consider as matter of boasting, and that they were 
the best of Englishmen : they were serious, devout chris- 
tians, of pure, exemplary morals, zealous lovers of liberty, 
well educated and men of substantial property. There was 
never a new colony formed of better materials ; never was 
one more carefully founded on plan and system, and no 
plan or system has discovered more foresight, or been 
crowned with more splendid success. Our forefathers im- 
mediately displayed a zeal and watchfulness, that the new 
society should be of the best sort, rather than of the largest 
size. Instead of building a Babel of wild Irish, Germans, 
and outlaws of all nations, such as would be suitable for a 
*** to govern, and such as Avould have preferred his govern- 
ment, they excluded not only foreigners but immoral per- 
sons from political power and even from inhabitancy. This 
has been called meanness and narrowness of spirit. New- 
England, however, owes its schools, colleges, towns, and pa- 
rishes, its close population, its learned clergy, much of its 
light and knowledge, its arts and commerce, and spirit of 
enterprise to this early wisdom of our ancestors. Even its 
growth and prosperity, though later, will not ultimately 
prove less, than if it had been settled on what many call a 
liberal plan. 

In consequence of our extraction and the institutions of 
our ever to be remembered ancestors. New -England has a 
distinct and well-defined national character ; the only part of 
the United States that has yet any pretensions to it. There 
are many truly enlightened citizens in the other states, who 
have tried to introduce into them the schools, town divisions, 
and other institutions of New-England. But if they could 
do it, these institutions would be novelties, whose authority 
would be for an age or two feeble and limited, in comparison 
of old habits and institutions. Besides, most of the Southern 
men of sense have prejudices in respect to the establishment 
of a learned clergy, and obliging every small district to sup- 
23 



17S PHOCION. 

port a minister. Without this precious security for the 
support of good morals and true religion, the attempt will be 
vain to adopt the laws and institutions of our ancestors. 

NaYs popular prejudices against these institutions are 
fixed^ and have been cherished in most of the Southern 
states. They, perhaps sincerely, consider these as burden- 
some and tyrannical restraints, and, without very well know- 
ing what they are, unite in disclaiming them as English, 
and remnants of bigotry. Hence the laws and customs of 
England are so much represented in Virginia as inconsistent 
^^ with I'epublicanism, that they have voted to instruct their 
/ memoers in congress to procure their formal abolition. 
Hence it is, that they are stated to be the badges and the in- 
struments of British influence. They say, an Englishman 
from the midland counties, suddenly transplanted into New- 
En land, would scarcely know he was not in his own coun- 
try : he would hear the same language, he would observe 
the same manners. This close affinity and resemblance, 
they say, is the occasion of a partiality for England that is 
dangerous to our republicanism. 

Trite observations of this kind make impression on the 
two-fold account, that they are plausible, and that they are 
so loose and indefinite that they are not precisely understood. 
It seems to be very possible, that we should reverence the 
English common law, and the customs and institutions we 
derive from our English ancestors, without loving or trust- 
ing lord North, or William Pitt, or any other minister of the 
British government. This distinction was made very exactly 
in the year 1775, when hostilities began The New-England 
states are closely allied in affection, as well as by resemblance 
of character and manners ; yet it has never been the case, 
that Massachusetts was able to exercise an inconvenient in- 
fluence over tlie affairs of Connecticut. It is, perhaps, to be 
lamented, that the good sense and good order of Connecticutj 
in its elections, have not had influence enough to procure the 
adoption of their laws by their neighbours. 



/ 



PHOCTON. 179 

Thus it seems that fact stands, as it often does, in opposi- 
tion to plausible theory. 

We adopt the rules of justice from Great Britain, and as 
long as we are allowed to enjoy good order, we shall desire to 
provide for the administration of jusrtice, and we shall continue 
to think it a precious advantage, that we can adopt so many 
important rules and principles to regulate its distribution, after 
England has tried them, and proved that they will answer. 
Surely this is a different thing from political influence. As 
well might it be said, that by copying their books, or even 
imitating their new invented labour-saving machines, we aug- 
ment their influence. 

Next to the power of religion, a strict administration of 
justice is the best security of morals. Foreign influence will 
not greatly prevail, as long as morals remiun uncorrupted. 
The Bricish common law is, therefore, one of the bulwarks 
against that corruption of manners, which will invite foreign in- 
fluence, in spite of all the frothy harangues that will ascribe it to 
the wrong causes. A people thoroughly licentious and corrupt 
(and democracy will make them such) will be betrayed, and 
foreign states will reward demagogues for managing their 
passions to mislead them. It is by practising on their hopes 
and fears, that such men gain an influence over the, people, 
and after they have gained, they have it for sale. 

But, for the very reason that we nearly resemble the Eng- 
lish, it will be peculiarly difficult to acquire that popular influ- 
ence. Let this be examined. 

Nothing is so odious or offensive as comparisons. When 
we find that we are compared with others, we are uneasy and 
displeased with the result of the comparison^ unless we find 
that the preference is assigned to ourselves. We consider 
those as our enemies, who thus degrade us, and we revenge 
ourselves by noting the defects of their judgment and the 
malignity of their dispositions, who have thus deeply wounded 
our self-love. Comparisons that are thus fre [uently made, 
render this angry spirit rancorous and habitual. But com- 
parisons of this kind are not made, unless with persons who 



180 PHOCIOX 

pretty nearly resemble us. It is believed to be hard for two 
beauties to be friends. Our pride is never hurt by our being 
compared with those who are very unlike us, and even if the 
superiority is assigned to the other party, the decision is ren- 
dered inoffensive, by the manifest dissimilarity of the subjects 
of the comparison. In like manner, we know that Americans 
resemble Frenchmen so little, that there is no ground for invi- 
dious comparison ; but Englishmen we are like, and the pain- 
iul question to national pride is, which nation is superiour. 
Partial as we are and ought to be to the American nation, we 
cannot despise the English nation, we will not prefer them, 
all that is left is to hate them. I ask with emphasis, is not 
this done ? Is not the pride of Great Britain the theme of popu- 
lar irritation ? Is not their power held up as a bug-bear ? Is not 
this fear an instrument to work upon the passions of our citi- 
zens ? and which of our demagogues could hold his authority 
without using it ? We are too much like the English to love 
them, because we love ourselves better, and Ave hate all compa- 
risons that mortify our self-love. 

The fact is, the hatred of England is excessive, and, as popu- 
lar passions are the agents of our political good or evil, exposes 
our government to the extreme hazard of confusion and French 
fraternity, and our peace to the shock of a British war. 



PHOCION. N^. V. 

British Influence. 

FOREIGN influence has been traced with some attention 
to the impediments and auxiliaries of its operation, within our 
country. It remains to look ivit/iout it, and to consider the 
political situation of France and England, and to determine, 
which of the two will be disposed and invited to employ her 
influence in the contrdl of our affairs. 

The counsels of both will be guided by their views of poli- 
tical good and evil. It is not believed, that France, insolent 
with victoiTi and crimson with revolutionary crimes, will regard 



PHOCION. 181 

eitliei" shame or principle. It is not believed, that England 
will wholly disregard the maxims and rules of civilized states. 
But without really admitting, that France is on a footing in 
point of morals or deference to the laws of nations, even with 
Algiers, it shall, for argument sake, be conceded to those who 
love her better than America, that France and England will 
exactly alike pursue what their interest dictates. Be it so. 

England then is commercial. Her commerce thrives by 
the immense superiority of her skill, industry, and capital. She 
has capital enough to employ and to trust. Her interest, as a 
trading nation, is to have good customers : her interest is, that 
those who owe should pay. But the essence, and almost the 
quintessence, of a good government is, to protect property and 
its rights. When these are protected, there is scarcely any 
booty left for oppression to seize ; the objects and the motives 
to usurpation and tyranny are removed. By securing property, 
life and liberty can scarcely fail of being secured : where pro- 
perty is safe by rules and principles, there is liberty. It is 
precisely such a government that Great Britain wishes to find 
and to sustain, wherever her commerce and credit extend. 
She is, of course, so far as her commercial interest extends, 
the friend of all governments that are friends to justice and 
protectors of honest creditors. Where justice ceases, there 
her credit stops. Stable governments, and especially such as 
have a portion of libei'ty to give them enterprise and to make 
them large consumers, are her best customers. If Turkey in 
Europe had as much law and liberty as the United States, it 
would demand, perhaps, as much manufactures as Britain could 
supply. Britain is obviously and demonstrably interested, not 
in the overthrow, but in the support of the regular govern- 
ments in existence, no matter whether monarchies or repub- 
licks. Governments that will compel debtors to be just, are 
all, in their form and administration, that British infivience, in 
this point of view, could be employed to make them. Accord- 
ingly, we do not find, that the trade of England with Holland 
was ever disturbed, because the latter was a republick, and for 
hsdf a century destitute even of a stadtholder ; we do not find, 



182 PHOCION. 

that Englishmen were set at work to preach democracy in 
Cadiz, though surely English liberty is as unlike Spanish des- 
potism as our republicanism. No, she was well content to 
clothe the colonists of Spain, and to receive their gold, silver, 
and diamonds, without stirring up a faction in Lisbon or Mad- 
rid to call first town meetings and then parliaments. Experi- 
ence has fully shewn, that commerce, with democratick and 
aristocratick republicks, with monarchies and simple despo- 
tisms, has been alike cherished and prosecuted for ages, without 
a suspicion, and certainly without an attempt on the part of 
Great Britain to revolutionize their governments. It is not 
difficult to shew, that stable liberty is the best condition of 
nations for the advancement of her commercial interest ; yet 
no attempt is recollected even to introduce this blessing insi- 
diously among her custoiners. The subjects of despots con- 
sume little and pay less : the diffusion of true and stable liberty 
would augment her commerce and manufactures. 

It must be urged also, that the genuine liberty of English- 
men is unfavourable to the fanatical spirit of conquest. Every 
able-bodied man at the plough or in the workshops of Birming- 
ham and Sheffield, is worth scarcely less than one hundred 
guineas. A free nation will be prosperous, and a prosperous 
nation cannot employ a man as a soldier without diverting his 
industry from husbandry or the arts. It costs too much for 
free thriving nations to be soldiers : the miiitaiy spirit is no 
more to be indulged, than a taste for luxuries by the poor, 
because the objects of gratification are, in both cases, e jually 
out of reach. Rich states can poorly afford to wear armour : 
the sword is the dearest of all tools. The ragged peasantry of 
France, half employed, less than half paid, were ever ready to 
listen to the enchanting eloquence of a recruiting sergeant. 
War has ever been in France the trade first in credit and least 
of all in rivaiship with any other. 

Britain, with a moderate population, has, therefore, never 
been in a condition to indulge the spirit of con'uest. Terri- 
torial aggrandizement has, indeed, been her object in Bengal 
and the peninsula of India j but it was there in subservience 



PHOCION. 183 

to her commerce ; and, let it be remai*ked, that the unwarlike 
Gentoos offered little resistance to her arms : she employed 
but a handful of Europeans to subject empires to the India 
company. This seeming exception from the observation be- 
fore made is, nevertheless, a strong illustration of its truth : 
she contended for territory for the sake of her commerce, and 
great as the prize was, the means she could employ were 
feeble,. 

It may be said, therefore, on the ground of experience, that 
the territorial ambition of Great Britain is limited and checked 
by her situation, character, and means ; her insular situation, 
her commercial character, and her pecuniary means. Being 
an island, she cannot annex provinces to her empire ; being 
commercial, she aims rather at profit than power; and being 
prosperous and industrious, her citizens are too dear to be 
hired as soldiers. Britain cannot raise great land armies, and, 
therefore, she cannot be so mad as to effect conquests that 
would require them. Admitting that the United States would 
submit a little sourly to her government, it would take forty 
or fifty thousand men in camps and garrisons, to keep any 
shew of authority over America ; and on the first symptoms of 
resistance they must be doubled. Great Britain, as she is, is 
not rich enough to afford to accept of the sixteen states as 
provinces. If a spirit, as restless and turbulent as Pennsyl- 
vania has shewn, should accompany and succeed our submis- 
sion, we should certainly drain her treasury, and finally bcttfle 
her arms. 

Great Britain pursues a policy of more moderation, justice, 
and wisdom. Her naval superiority is employed to extend her 
commerce : if she carries her sword in one hand, it is to offer 
her commodities with the other. Her ships of war cannot 
conquer extensive territories, nor preserve them in subjection. 
Thus the means she possesses, and those she wants, almost 
equally exclude her from teriitorial power. Perhaps the in- 
ci-ease of her soldiers would necessarily exhaust the funds for 
the support of her ships, and, therefore, we are certain that 



184 PHOCION. 

she will not ordinarily attempt impossibilities ; she will not try' 
to gain the possession of territoiy that she could not keep. 

The application of these remarks is easy. We conceive 
that Britain has no motive, nor has she means to disturb the 
government of the United States, by attempting to g xcite the 
popular passions to control its measvires. She cannot have 
influence, because those passions will for ever run counter to 
her wishes : those wishes, conformable to her interests, will be 
to support the government, that the goverment may support 
justice. The very nature of her power ensures an irreconcila- 
ble hostility with popular feeling in the United States. She is 
commercial, and so are we. Excluded from some of her ports 
in our own ships, rivals and competitors in all marts, inferiour 
in all seas, and made especially in time of war sensible by her 
arrogance and injustice, painfully sensible of our inferiority, 
we shall hate her power, and suspect her influence, when she 
has none, when she cannot have any, and when the hatred 
gives influence to her rival, France. 



PHOCION. N°. VI. 

French Influence. 

FRENCH influence has found, and will long find, both 
motives and means to disturb and control the measures of any 
honest and truly national government in America. 

Since Rome, no state has ever manifested such exorbitant 
ambition as France. Whether this arises from the nature of 
her power, which has ever been military, or the extent of it, 
which, for two centuries, has proved an overmatch for any 
European state ; whether two centuries spent in efforts for 
aggrandizement have formed martial habits, or whether the 
national character be the cause rather than the effect of those 
struggles, the fact is certain, that France is of all modern 
states the most militaiy, intriguing, and ambitious. Since the 
revolution, all traces of every other passion have disappeared, 
and the sword is the only utensil to occupy industry or to carve 



PHOCION. iSfJ 

out its recompense. "With that, Frenchmen reap where they 
have not sowed : by waving that, they command the diamonds 
of Brasil, and strip the churches of Italy. Good fortune, 
scarcely less than Roman, has kindled a passion for conquest, 
and blown \\p a pride, which the hostile force of the civilized 
world would not intimidate, the empire of the world would 
not satisfy. The avarice of a commercial nation calculates 
its means and reckons up the value of them ; a conquering 
nation disdains both gold and arithmetick, and computes 
the presumption and audacity of its attempts, as surprises on 
its plodding neighbours, and as the resources to ensure its 
triumphs. Behold France, conducting her intrigues and array- 
ing her force between the arctick circle and the tropicks ; see 
her, in Russia, the friend of despotism, preparing to subvert 
the empire of the Turks ; in Ireland, the auxiliary of a bloody 
democracy ; in Spain and Italy, a papist ; in Egypt, a n^ussul- 
man ; in India, a bramin ; and at home, an atheist ; countenanc- 
ing despotism, monarchy, democracy, religion of every sort, 
and none at all, as suits the necessity of the moment. It may 
be said, that it is nothing to the people of France, whether 
their armies win or lose a battle : glory is not bread. 

It is incredible to many, that a nation should perform labours 
and make efforts of the most perilous and astonishing kind, 
merely for glory. Those, however, who reason against the 
military passion as a chimera, arraign the authority of history. 
What was it to the Romans, that Mithridates, or Tigi'anes, or 
Antiochus, or Perseus, or Arsaces, did not respect the majority 
of the Roman people ? Surely that did not affect the markets 
or amusements of Rome. Yet never was there an objection 
in the forum, never was there any repugncince to the enrol- 
ment of the legions for chastising the rebellious insolence of 
any king, who had never heard of the Roman name, or who 
did not tremble when he heard it. Accordingly, the soldier 
citizens cheei'fuUy engaged to march across deserts and moun- 
tains to the extremities of the then known world, to assert the 
glory of the Roman name, and to fix the statue of the God 
Terminus as far East as the shore of the Euphrates. The 
sons of business, who do not feel this spirit, will be slow to be- 
lieve that others feel it ; but frenchmen are aoimated with as 
2i 



1!?6 PHOClOX. 

Iiu-gc £1 portion of it, as the soldiers of Paulas Emilius, Lucul- 
lus, or Crussus, 

France is, probably, the most populous of European states, 
if we except tlie wandering tribes subject to Russia. It is the 
only state in which the sword is the only ti'adc. Commerce has 
net a single shift ; arts and manufactures exist in ruins and memory 
ortly ; credit is a spectre that haunts its burying place ; justice 
has fallen on its own sivord ; and liberty n, after being sold to 
Ish?narlites, is stripped of its bloody garments to disguise its 
robb<*rs. A people, vain enough to be satiffed nvith the name of 
liberty, are called free, and the fervours of its spirit are roused 
to bind other nations in chains. 

'From all these circumstances thus singularly combined, the 
whole physical force of France is its political force. There is 
not a vein nor a purse, that its gigantick despotism cannot open 
at pleasure. 

It is impossible that means so vast should be possessed, 
without the desire to employ them. The obstacle to their 
successful employment is England : in all her ambitious at- 
tempts, she stands in her way. She stands like a necro- 
mancer, herself invulnerable, and by her spells the giant France 
is smitten with a palsy. With a spirit less generous than her 
courage, and sometimes with an attention to objects unworthy 
of her situation, England stands the bulwark of the civilized 
world, the only obstacle to the universal despotism of France. 

EvEiiY thing, tlierefore, concurs to give activity to French 
influence. Her ambition, that seeks territorial aggrandizement 
in all parts of the earth, and the impediments that the naval 
jwwer of Great Britain every where throws in her way, create 
the necessity, the motive, and the means of influence. Being 
infcriour at sea, she tries to gain friends or to subdue allies on 
the shore of every sea. Accordingly, in Italy she obliges the 
Genoese, the Tuscans, and the Romans to exclude tlie ships 
and manufactures of England from their ports. She will exact 
the like terms from the emperour and from Portugal. She will 
never cease to stir up the jealousy and ambition of the em- 
perour Paul, till he has forced the Turks to banish the English 
from the Mediterranean. Egypt is seized to secure a station 
o*ii the land, that may finally expel the English from India. 



PHOCIOX. 187 

Popular passions arc courted in America, that they may ob- 
struct first, and then subvert and revolutionize the govern- 
ment. Credit, pubiick and private, is an anti-Gallican interest : 
by subverting credit and abolishing debts, British hostility is 
ensured, British commerce excluded. Besides, French islands 
in every war are destitute of the protection of a naval force : 
they are forced to depend on the resources of their own soil, 
and on the supplies that the United States will furnish. The 
neutrality, and still more the friendship and co-operation of 
the United States, will be sufficient to preserve their colonies, 
and, eventually, to turn the scale of power, in the contest for 
empire, in favour of France. Having no trade of her own, 
she is our customer, not our rival : her pubiick ships, fugitives 
on the ocean, are seldom its tyrants. She is interested, and 
has the opportunity, to foment the passions, which arise in 
America from the use and, too frequently, from the abuse of 
the British doiTiinion of the sea. 

Is it then difficult to explain by this theory all the conduct 
of France and her emissaries, and the co-operation of her 
partisans in America ? She has exerted her diplomatick skill to 
seize Louisiana, Florida, and Canada, and employed her Genets 
to enlist men in our back country to occupy them. She Avas, 
in 1783, averse to our aggrandizement, lest it should make us 
strong enough to stand alone, and to do without her aid. She 
has opposed every step towards the stability of our govern- 
ment, and for the establishment of its resources and credit. 
Her emissaries, in 1783, opposed the grant to the army, wish- 
ing to foment factions and divisions ; in 1787, the federal con- 
stitution ; in 1789, the funding system. She has been leagued 
with every faction, as Fauchet's intercepted letter shews. 
There is no doubt that the jacobin gazettes are in her pay. 
The despatches from Mr. Gerry, Marshall, and Pinckney, 
shew that she relies on her power over the constituted powers 
of the United States. She has interfered in our elections ; and 
she needs us as instruments of her hatred of England too 
much to lose a moment, or any practicable means, or to for- 
bear any expense, that will secure the preponderance of her 
influence in our counsels. 

There is' foreign influence, and it is French. 



L 188 3 

THE NEW ROMAXS. 
N°. I. 

First published iii the rallailium, September, 1801. 

J. O raise curiosity, wonder, and tcrrour, is the ordinai-y eflect 
of great political events. All these, but especially wonder, 
have been produced by the progress of the French revolution. 
To wonder is not the way to grow wise : to extract wisdom 
from experience, we must ponder and examine ; we must 
search for the Jilan which regulates political conduct, and its 
ultimate design. To know what is done, without knowing why 
it is done, and with what spirit it was undertaken, is knowing 
nothing : it is no better than laborious ignorance and studious 
errour. Such has been the crude mass of newspaper infornla- 
tion, the blind and undistinguishing admiration of French vic- 
tories. It would be difficult to understand all that it is pro- 
fitable to know, in regard to these surprising events, if history 
did not teach us, that like actors and like scenes have been 
exhibited in ancient days, and that we may, if we will, learn 
wisdom from the sad experience of the nations which have 
gone before us. 

Since the Romans, no nation has appeared on the stage of 
human affairs, with a character completely military, except the 
French ; and that character was mingled with the commercial, 
until the rerolution. 

With less than half a million of citizens in her whole ter- 
ritoiy, according to the census or enumeration preserved by 
Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Rome, soon after the expulsion of 
her kings, was ready to coinmence the conquest of Italy, a 
country scarcely less populous than France. It was, however, 
divided into petty states, many of which were as numerous, as 
brave, and as warlike as the Romans ; but there was an im- 
mense difference in their national character and maxims of 
state. The citizens of Rome were all soldiers; they had no 
pay ; all that rewarded their toils in war was pillage. Poor 



THE NEW ROMANS. 189 

as they were, and bands of robbers are ever poor, the spoils of 
nn enemy's camp, or the division of conquered lands, was am- 
ple rewaixl for a fortnight's campaign. I'heir enemies were 
near at hand and ever ready for combat ; of course, the term of 
service was short, but the calls for it were frequent. In Rome, 
therefore, there was but one trade, and that was war : all were 
soldiers. Accordingly, Rome could array sixty thousand of the 
firmest infantry in the world, while she had not five hundred 
thousand citizens ; a province in Italy with a million did not 
offer to resist one demi-brigade of French soldiers. What a 
prodigious difference ! Holland is now kept in subjection by 
twenty thousand French troops, and its miserable people are 
ground to powder to pay and clothe these ragged masters for 
the trouble they take to oppress them. 

One eighth of the population of Rome were soldiers, the 
best in the world ; the United States, with not less than five 
million five hundred thousand people, are pronounced by the 
democrats, to be beggared and ruined to such a degree, that 
the children in every farm house will go supperless to bed to 
maintain three thousand : nay, that this standing army of 
three thousand was raised with the design, and possesses the 
force and means, as well as disposition, to enslave the people 
and to set up a monaixhy in America. France is exceedingly 
populous, and cannot need, if she could bear, as great a draft 
from her numbers as Rome ; no modern nation has, however, 
come so near being, like the Romans, all soldiers, as the French. 
It is exceedingly difficult to state the proportion of soldiers to 
other citizens. It has generally been thought, that Germany 
had soldiers in proportion of one to a hundred. The distresses 
of Austria and the zeal of the Hungarians may have doubled 
the proportion, during the most trying periods of the war v.dth 
France. There is, however, reason to believe, that, in the ener- 
gies of Robespiereism, France, with her sixteen armies, ar- 
rayed within and without her territory nearly one twelfth of her 
vast population. Without a merchant ship, her navy hauled 
up, arts stagnant, capital spent, skill occupied in making arms, 
Lyons blown up with gunpowder, the only place to find busi- 



190 THE NEW ROMANS. 

ness, to get bread, fame, and promotion, was in the army : uo' 
modern state has been so nearly all militaiy. This was not 
the effect of her momentary distresses ; it was the pla7i of her 
government, and a consequence of the character of her people. 
Her government, ever changing hands, was ever the same in 
spirit. Like Rome, who extended her conquests, while slie 
was convulsed with civil war, every change has brc^athed new 
fuiy into the military enthusiasm of France. One passion, 
like a tyrant, has banished all others : it is tlie only one, that 
has aliment, or finds scope for its exercise. We see how pre- 
valent this passion is in every French bosom ; for the emigrants 
who came here and to England, bespattered with the blood and 
brains of their fathers, and wives, and kindred, strut, on the 
news of their victories, as if they were an inch taller on the 
success of their oppressors, and they weep and mourn, when 
their fleets or armies are beaten. In France, the age of chi- 
valry is not gone : a spirit, more ardent than the crusades 
engendered, glows there, which burns not for liberty, but for 
conquest. The money-getting and money-loving Dutch and 
Americans can scarcely credit the influence of this passion. 
Doubts of this sort are plausible errours ; and they oppose 
metaphysicks, as to what ought to govern men, to the confound- 
ing and decisive authority of experience, which determines 
what does govern men. 

It might, if it were necessary, be shewn, that the chivaliy 
of the military spirit ever was predominant in that country : 
all that was respected was military. The lower classes were 
emulous of this spirit, and they allowed that gentility consisted 
in bearing arms : the common soldiers fought duels, affected 
to be men of honour, and gloried in the distinction of wearing 
ragged uniform and eating bad provisions for the grand mon- 
arque. All this happened before the revolution. It might 
be added, that all trades, that merchandise, and a condition of 
labour were ever held base and degrading. It happened that 
the mci'chants, to whom honour was not ascribed, wanted 
honour and integrity. They were brought down, as might 
naturally be expected, to the rank in which they were held. 



THE NEW ROMANS. ' 191 

riiere was nothing that ought to rival the splendour of militaiy 
distinction ; there was nothing in the state that did rival it. All 
other passions were quenched ; all the energies of the human 
character were concentred in the passion for arms. The 
revolution came and sublimated all the passions to fury and 
extravagance : it gave an immediate preponderance, nay, a 
sole dominion to the love of glory. The national guards were 
formed, and their epaulets and swords were worth more in 
their eyes than liberty. 

The bloody struggle that has buried arts, and institutions, 
and wealth, and thrones, and churches of God under heaps of 
cinders, has given that strength to this passion, which might 
be expected from partial indulgence and strict discipline. 

Very early the French perceived the affinity of their national 
character with that of the Romans ; though it is, manifestly, 
with the Romans after they were corrupted and had lost their 
liberty. Their vanity instantly prompted them to emulate 
this model, and to illustrate this resemblance : they have been 
vain of their consuls and tribunes, and they have adopted the 
haughty demeanour, as well as the insidious art of the Roman 
senate. If modern nations are any better than barbarians, 
tiiey ouglrt to mark the spirit of these new Romans, and exert 
in self-defence a spirit of intelligence and patriotism, which 
was wanting to the ancient world, and which might have saved 
them from bondage. It is much to be desired, that your learn- 
ed correspondent would pursue his comparison of the French 
and Roman policy. It is what popular prejudice needs, and, I 
perceive by the Aui'ora, it is what jacobinism di'eads. 



THE NEW ROMANS. 

N". ir. 



CONQUEST being the object of the Romans, and the spi- 
rit of the people being, in a high degree, mai'tial, the next care 
was to train up men to be conquering soldiers. They believed, 
that they could, and that they ought to achieve more than other 



192 THE NEW ROMANS. 

soldiers ; and, therefore, they cheerfully submitted to the aug- 
mentation of labour, and self-denial, and danger, that this pre- 
eminence of glory and courage were bound to sustain. Their 
patriotism was little less than self-love : they heai-d of nothing 
but what was due to their country ; they lived, and acted, and 
were bound by oath, if necessary, to die, for it. The republick 
was a sort of divinity, which commanded their reverence and 
affection, a,nd which alone conferred the rewards that were 
proper for heroes. This sentiment was strengthened by the 
rigour of the maxims, which then regulated war : to be con- 
quered, or even to be a prisoner, was to be annihilated as a Ro- 
man, and for ever deprived of an inhei'itance of glory more 
precious than life. Religion added force to these popular sen- 
timents, and a Roman false to them was more abhorred than 
an Arnold. 

Such was the force of this complex and skilful machinery, 
that the Roman soldiers were heroes : they were all that men 
could be. Their covmtry was a camp ; and peace, a time not of 
rest but of preparation and exercise. They were taught to carry 
vast burdens, to march loaded like packhorses, to take fifteen 
days provisions, to transport weapons heavier than their enemies* 
entrenching tools, and much of the equipage of Avar, which is 
now conveyed by thousands of waggons. This habitual endur- 
ance of hardship made it familiar, hardened them to the rigour 
of climates and the most violent efforts : they were seldom 
sick. Their celerity in marching, their perfect discipline, 
their promptness to rally after a repulse, their unwearied per- 
severance in battle, were as extraordmary and as terrible to the 
foe as their heroick courage. They claimed to be, and their 
enemies admitted that they were, a superiour race of men. 
This lofty opinion realized itself: they did not rely on num- 
bers, but thought it enough to send a popular general with two 
legions, (not sixteen thousand men) to overthrow the empires 
of Tigranes or Jugurtha : they expected, and experience 
justified their expectation, that the terrour of the Roman name 
would be more effectual than legions. Accordingly, the sub- 
jects and allies, and even the children, of the invaded kings, 



THE NEW ROMANS. 193 

seldom failed to desert his cause, who was the enemy of Rome, 
and, of course, devoted to ruin. 

If this view of the militiuy character of Rome has not led 
the mind of the reader to mark its resemblance with the 
French, it is not because the latter have omitted any means in 
their command to form themselves on the Roman model. As 
the French soldiers compose a large part of the able-bodied 
citizens, they are a better sort of men than are found in the 
ranks of their enemies. In England, for example, a prosper- 
ous commerce and vast manufactures leave only refuse and 
scum for their armies ; the French soldiers are really French- 
men, and animated with a large portion of that fiery, impetu- 
ous zeal for the glory of the nation, which is so remarkably 
characteristick. It is a subject, on which no Frenchman, how- 
ever his country may have misused him, can be cold. All that 
taxes, that confiscation, or that foreign spoil could supply, has 
been promised as reward ; and all that art or eloquence could 
do, has been used as incitement. In France, too, as in Rome, 
there is no claim of power and distinction, but what is derived 
from the sword : the consuls were generals, and all the offices 
were considered as in a degree military : no man can be great 
in France unless he is a great general. The abbe Sieyes has 
been made a consul, and, for wisdom in • the cabinet, report 
assigns him the first place : when Caligula made his horse a 
consul, he did not make him as able and learned as Sieyes, but 
he invested him with the exact measure of power that Buona- 
parte allows to his colleague. The army, conscious of being 
the fountain of power, would as soon submit to the authority of 
a woman, as of any man eminent in any other art than the mili- 
tary, and ignorant of that. When, therefore, all glory, all dis- 
tinction in the state, and the exclusive title to a share in the 
government of it, are confined to the military, no wonder that 
art has been carried to a degree of perfection far beyond the 
attainments of the rival states. 

If those states were equally emulous of glory, if their sub- 
jects were all soldiers, and if all arts were held in contempt 
that were not subservient to arms, they would be on a footing 



194 THE NEW ROMANS. 

with the French. But, since the discovery of America, the 
systems of all the European governments have been commer- 
cial : they have patronised the arts that would procure riches, 
as preferable to those which confer power. The publick sen-' 
timent of every other nation has been rather that of avarice 
than of ambition. The military profession has been, in conse- 
quence, separated from every other, and, in some measure, 
degraded in estimation, as the only one that earns nothing, 
and that is corrupted by idleness. The rest of the society has 
become unwarlike, unfit for toil, insensible to glory. The 
citizen, attached to his ease, his property and family, considers 
it as both ruin and disgrace to become a soldier. Is it strange, 
then, that the entire mass of France should overpower its ene- 
mies ? From the difference of character and situation, no other 
decision could have happened, than that which has happened. 
France, subject to the most energetick despotism in the 
world, poured forth her myriads in arms. Formerly, a few 
strong fortresses, or a ridge of mountains, were called barriers ; 
and to subdue a country these obstacles must be overcome : 
many campaigns were made by the famous Marlborough to 
break the line of the iron frontier of France, as the Nethei*- 
lands have been called. The French have changed this sys- 
tem of war in a very extraordinary manner. By the immensity 
of the mass of their armies, by their great extent, occupying 
the whole frontier of an enemy's country, by the astonishingly 
numerous artillery, the rapid marches, the attacks made in 
concert in many places at once, from the lower Rhine to the 
Mincio and Adige, though at the distance of one hundred and 
fifty leagues, by the unwearied renewal of those attacks, if the 
first fails, and by the endless reinforcements of fresh troops, a 
state is now subdued, as soon as, formerly, Marlborough could 
take a town : the field of battle extends over several provinces : 
the map of a country is not extensive enough for the plan of 
a camp : all the heights and commanding positions are occu- 
pied in such a manner, that the two wings of the army are, 
perhaps, one hundred and fifty miles apart : if one of the ene- 
my's posts can be passed by, or his forces are dislodged from 



THE NEW ROMANS. 195 

(liem, he must fall back to take the next best position in his 
rear, and thus a country falls in a day, and, perhaps, without a 
battle. 

It is evident, that this new method of employing so vast 
armies, and this wasteful activity of manoeuvring and fighting 
incessantly, by which a campaign has become vmusually de- 
structive of human life, will require Europe to be more mili- 
tary than ever; all must be soldiers, or all will be slaves: and 
this boasted and boastful revolution will tend to hasten and to 
fix for ages both barbarism and despotism. 



THE NEW ROMANS. 
N°. 111. 

ART cannot soon form the character of a nation, nor can 
violence soon change it. Of all the barbarous nations, the 
Franks were the most martial. Fourteen hundred years ago, 
they formed their petty tribes into a conquering nation. The 
greatness of the nation early inspired ambition, Avhich several 
able and warlike princes inflamed into a national enthusiasm. 
While most other European states were feeble by their divi- 
sions, the French were powerful, and aspired to dominion and 
influence over other nations. More than a thousand years ago, 
their kings led armies into Italy, and parcelled out its govern- 
ments, as Buonaparte has done. The splendour of the reign 
of Charlemagne fascinated the F'rench, as much as their late 
victories, and established the pretensions of their vanity to be 
the great nation, the arbiters of Europe. The compactness as 
well as immensity of their force engaged them in every war 
that occurred. We know the power that habit has to form the 
characters of individual men and whole nations : by continual 
wars, the French lost nothing of the military spirit of their 
barbarous ancestors. The crusades and tlie age of chivalry 
exalted this spirit to its highest degree, and greatly distinguish- 
ed the French among the crusaders. The Edwards, and still 
more Henry the seventh, of England, and afterwards the wise 



196 THE NEW ROMANS. 

Elizabeth, introduced commerce and the arts, and gave a ne\V 
turn to the enterprise of the English nution. It may be con- 
jectured with some appearance of probability, that the insular 
position of England very early determined the English charac- 
ter towards the arts of peace. As soon as the struggles be- 
tween the king and the barons, and the I'ival houses of York 
and Lancaster, afforded any respite from arms, and any in- 
teiiour order in the kingdom, two consequences resulted : a 
greater portion of the English inhabited the country, the 
couiitiy being as safe to inhabit as the cities ; the yeomanry, 
or cultivators of land, increased in wealth and influence in the 
state, and constituted the mass and body of the nation : hus- 
bandry forms a class of men, and a determined character for the 
class, very unlike that of soldiers. A second consequence, 
and connected with the former, was, that the English were 
afterwards engaged less actively and, indeed, less dangerously 
in wars than their rivals : except the incursions of the Scotch, 
their wars were abroad, they were only occasional and of short 
duration. When the reign of Henry the seventh, and the dis- 
covery of America, awakened the ardour of discovery and 
commercial enterprise, this new propensity found little rival- 
ship or impediment from the military passion, and, as it was 
fostered afterwards by Elizabeth and the Stuarts, the English 
soon became a shopkeeping nation, une nation boutu/uiere, as the 
French contemptuously denominate them. Hence, the passion 
to ac' ;uire is characteristick of the English ; the passion to 
rule is predominant with the French : the one seeks gain ; the 
other glory. 

The causes which have led to this national character, not 
only lie deep in the most remote aniifuity, but events of a 
more recent date have contributed to decide and for ever to fix 
their preponderance. 

The ravages of national wars freciuently exposed the coun- 
try people to spoil and violence ; but the great lords and feudal 
chiefs claimed and exercised the right of private vengeance. 
Hence, animosities and endless civil wars desolated the con- 
tinental states of Europe. The only places of security were 



THE NEW ROMANS. 197 

the fortified towns. Thus it happened, that the country was 
inhabited by a wretched, defenceless peasantry, without charac- 
ter or spirit, and subject to the corvee or ruinous slavery of 
performing certain labour for their lords, and to a whole sys- 
tem of feudal exactions and oppressions so heavy and so dispi- 
riting, as to prevent their having any character of their own, 
or any influence on that of the nation. Indeed, emulation will 
be directed towards such qualities as are esteemed ; and there 
was nothing in the condition of the labouring class to gratify 
pride or to inspire it. The soldiei's only were respected or 
imitated : they gave the tone and the fashion to every thing in 
France. Cities were not much occupied in arts, and not at all 
in commerce. They were crowded with I'etainers to princes 
and nobles, who even wore their livery and fed at their tables : 
they followed them in war, and their multitude was the rule, 
by which the magnificence and poAver of the nobles was mea- 
sured and displayed. 

Thus the taste and manners of the French were not formed, 
like the English, in solitude and by the occupations of country 
life. Fashion governed the crowds in cities, and the nobles 
and their martial followers alone gave law to fashion : arms 
engrossed all thoughts, the business of war and the convei'sa- 
tion of peace. 

When Louis the eleventh humbled the great lords of France, 
and established a standing army, his sagacity discerned, that 
this leading propensity of the French character was to be used 
as the instrument to keep the nation in subjection. His succes- 
sors cherished the military sense of honour, as the basis and 
guardian principle of the monarchy. The noblesse despised 
trade, and an artisan, however ingenious, was one of the Jieu/ile, 
or populace or mob. 

From hence it followed, that arms alone were honoured : a 
rich man could not pretend to be a gentleman till he had serv- 
ed a campaign ; and the French noblesse pi'eserved undimi- 
nished, the gallantry, the impetuous valour that courted danger, 
which so much distinguished the age of the crusades and of 
chivalry : that gallant race was extinct, excepting in France. 



198 THE NEW ROMANS. 

The revolution began, and was in a great measure effected, 
not by quenching this chivalrous spirit, but by awakening it in 
the rabble. They were sensible to honour and shame, and 
they claimed to be as brave, and, therefore, as much gentlemen 
as the noblesse. This emulation, the more lively for being 
newly inspired, animated the attack of the bastile, arrayed the 
national guards, and spread the power of enthusiasm, like the 
electrick fluid, over all France. The leaders of the revolution, 
as skilful to guide as to excite the popular ferment, availed 
themselves of these new energies to raise armies, and, after 
having subverted the monarchy, to find Avork for them in a 
war with Austria. The progress of this war, it was foreseen, 
would throw all t4ie political and physical power of France into 
their hands, as the fervour of the revolution had already given 
them absolute power over opinion. Never, in the history of 
mankind, did the rulers of a nation possess an influence so 
combined and so unlimited. Robespiere held all France in his 
hand as a machine, he wielded it as a weapon, Avhile the empe- 
rour and the king of Great Britain, whom the French call 
despots, could command only the surplus of the revenues, and 
some fragments of the force of their states. 

But the manner, in which this gigantick despotism has pro- 
ceeded, will best illustrate the popular sentiment, from which 
it sprung, and the end, which alone it deems worthy of its 
ambition and its efforts. 



THE NEW ROMANS. 

N°. IV. 



IT has been attempted to shew, that military glory has ever 
been the first object of desire, the most fascinating claim to 
superiour consideration in France. 

Savages take their chai'acter from their situation as indi- 
vidualsf from their appetites and their wants, rather than from 
any sympathy of national sentiment : hunger makes them hun- 



THE NEW ROMANS. i99 

lers ; fear, and, sometimes, revenge makes them warriours. 
But in polished societies, men derive their national cast from 
their intercourse with one another. Absolute want is felt by 
few, and those who feel it, are without influence on the socie- 
ty. Man ceases to be merely an individual ; he models his 
desires and his sentiments according to his relation to the 
national body, of which he is a member. That class in society 
which is the most respected, is the most imitated. It has been 
shewn, that the class of artisans, or that of merchants, did not 
hold that envied place in France, but that the men of the 
sword did. 

This being the national sentiment, it is obvious, that the 
government could not disobey, much less offend or shock, that 
sentiment, without losing, in a moment, all its hold on the 
popular affections. A dastardly policy, a dread of war with 
Austria or England, would have blasted the new leaders with 
disgrace. Taken, as they were, from the lowest classes of the 
nation, they would have been charged with having souls as 
mean as their condition, too mean to govern a republick, all 
whose citizens claimed an equal rank with their high-spirited 
nobles, and who required, that the great nation should adopt 
the lofty pretensions, and display the impetuous courage, of its 
military class. All the classes of society claimed an equality, 
and to be at the top, and thus the depression of ranks instantly 
produced an elevation of national spirit. Believing that they 
were all sovereign, and that France, by raising its spirit, had 
raised its power, they were anxious to make such a display of 
it, as should astonish and confound kings, whom they hated, 
and the English nation, whom they envied and feared. They 
considered their new liberty, as a new rank, and the highest 
rank, which, of course, in their eyes, was militaiy ; and that 
this sudden dignity, was neither solidly established, nor suffici- 
ently enjoyed, unless the fionver of France was displayed in a 
manner to excite both terrour and wonder, to make kings 
quake and their subjects admire. How dear a triumph for 
republicanism ! How lofty a stage for equality ! 



200 THE NEW ROMANS. 

Indeed it is not in the nature of things, that any strong 
popular impulse should be satisfied Avithout action. The 
more sudden, svu'prising, and violent the action, the more likely 
is it to gratify and to prolong this impulse. All democracies 
are governments by popular passions. These cannot exist and 
be at rest ; they cannot be indulged, and yet kept uithin the 
limits of moderation or principle. They sweep like whirl- 
winds, that are not stopped by desolation, but as they destroy, 
they level obstacles and are quickened in their progress. They 
pour like torrents from the mountains, and, if they reach the 
plains in their fulness, they are inundations unconfined by 
banks : the violence of each soon scoops for itself a narrow 
channel, and that i* a dry one. 

One auxiliary cause of the military passion of the French 
has not been mentioned in its proper place ; it must not be 
omitted in the examination of characters. The English, their 
great rivals, ever thought themselves entitled to take rank as 
difree nation. The P'rench could not vie with the English for 
liberty ; but vanity, repelled from one course, sought and found 
relief in another : we are the most gallant people of Eui*ope : 
these islanders, proud of their liberty, shall not be permitted 
to despise, they shall fear us. Pride, hot in the race of emu- 
lation, and smarting with the wound of its imputed degradation 
by slaveiy under an absolute monarch, grew prouder, when it 
■wore its armour and surveyed its trophies. In that contempla- 
tion, every Frenchman stretched into a giant, and felt per- 
suaded, that France alone was peopled by the race of Anak. 

All this military fervour, with all its strength and all its 
blindness, was transferred by the revolution into the people, 
la Bourgeoisie^ who claimed to be nobles, and who knew no 
other way to display it, than the usual and acknowledged one 
for men of rank, by militaiy distinction. 

Accordingly, in the first era of the revolution, the formation 
of the national guards^ and the establishment of rank equal to 
veterans, awakened the sleeping pride of every heart, and 
muigled the love of liberty with self-love too intimately to 



THE NEW ROMANS. 201 

allow them afterwards to be dissociated. Pride received a 
new impulse to its current, but it ran in the old channel. 

No sooner had the revolution attracted attention, than each 
Frenchman felt his individual title to pre-eminence, as well 
as that of the nation, to be subjected to a trial. He now 
claimed to be freer than the free, to be freer than an Eng- 
lishman or American, as he had ever pretended to be the first 
among polished and brave men. Their common sentiment 
•was, of course, that the friendship of those who resembled, 
them in liberty was a debt ; the submission of those who 
were inferiour to them in force and courage, was a decree 
of fate. The supposed hatred of kings, because they had 
made a republick, their contempt, because they had made a 
vile rabble rulers, alike stimulated their national vanity to 
assert claims that were thus disputed, and, if possible, to 
make them indisputable. They perceived, that France was a 
stage, and that the curiosity of mankind expected something- 
magnificent in the scenes, something preternatural in the 
actors, something that would dazzle and astonish ; that would 
make criticism distrustful of its rules, and awe contradic- 
tion into silence. 

The revolution itself was one of those portentous, but rare 
events, which originate from the operation of moral causes, 
from the intestine agitation of the human mind ; a fermenta- 
tive power, that destroys the forms and the essences of the 
political body, and yet in its progress separates a larger por- 
tion of that pungent spirit, that was formerly the hidden 
aliment of its life, and is now its preservative from corrup- 
tion. But, while all France was steaming with this pervad- 
ing heat, and twitching with the spasms of enthusiastick pas- 
sion, its popular leaders, assuming imposing names, and 
exercising a despotism that had neither known limits nor 
definition, suddenly found themselves invested with a power, 
that seemed miraculous. They could lead the nation out 
like an intoxicated giant; or like a war elephant to tread 
■2^ 



::ox; THE new Romans. 

down an enemy's ranks, and train him rathei* to be furious, 
than intimidated, by his wounds. 

The spirit of the revolution, like that of the crusades, is 
a fierce and troubled spirit : and, like that, it may take two 
centuries to quiet it. The reformation of Luther, more 
necessary and more salutary, entailed three ages of war upon 
Europe. It is a prodigious power, which the nionarchy 
could not resist ; but which the chiefs of the military demo- 
cracy have successively attempted to guide. 

It may seem to most readers a paradox, that so much 
weight should be allowed to the popular sentiment, in a coun- 
try so devoted to despotism as France. It should be remem- 
bered, that even a despotism has but a limited physical 
strength : it must depend on other props than mere force ; 
it must make an auxiliary of publick opinion. The grand 
seignior governs Turkey by the aid of superstition, more 
than by his janissaries ; and, even in P' ranee, where the peo- 
ple seem to be annihilated, and are nothing in the subordinate 
plans of the government, the great objects of policy must 
be chosen, and conducted, with no small condescension to 
their wishes. For instance, a peace, that should strip France 
of her conquests, that should tear the laurels from the army, 
that should expose the French nation to any loss of the repu- 
tation that victory has conferred, would shake the throne of 
the boldest usurper that has enslaved them. The claims of 
their vanity have been exoi'bitant from the first, and every 
new set of tyrants has promised still further to exalt that 
vanity. Indeed they have kept their word ! 

It is probable, that sensible Frenchmen have long ago 
discerned, that they did not possess liberty, and that they 
were not in the road to attain it ; but they appeared to be in 
that road, and that illusion concealed their chains and soothed 
their sense of disappointment. They could bear it, that they 
were not freemen, it was what they were used and reconcil- 
ed to ; but they would not bear not to be conquerors. Their 
love of liberty was tractable ; their vanity untractable. Ac- 
cordingly, they gloried in the enthusiasm of their efforts to 



THE NEW ROMAJfS. 203 

expel the Prussians, who, by invading, had firofaned the ter- 
ritory of the republick ; although no tyranny could be more 
odious or sanguinary than that for which they fought. They 
have borne taxes, paper money, famine, tyranny in all its 
worst forxns, not merely with ordinary patience, but with 
alacrity, because the French nation struck Europe with 
admiration and terrour. While religion and morals took 
flight, industry starved, and innocence bled, national vanity 
has had its banquets : its frequent feasts have become its 
ordinary living, and now it would pine without a profusion of 
dainties. 



THE NEW ROMANS, 

AMIDST all the confusion of the changes in the govern- 
ment of France, the rulers have formed their policy on the 
basis of the vanity of the nation : every new set has promis- 
ed aggrandizement and glory to France, and the infliction of 
a signal vengeance on its enemies. 

This constancy in adhering to the same maxims of policy, 
while the men at the head of aff^airs were kings only for 
three months, may seem surprising. But Sparta preserved 
nearly the same character seven hundred years, though 
many violent revolutions occurred ; and Rome acted as long, 
and even more uniformly, on the strength of the national sen- 
timent, that she could not exist at all, unless as a conqueror 
and mistress of the world ; yet Rome changed her consuls 
yearly. The diversity of the character of her magistrates 
was lost in the uniformity and force of her own. 

In the very beginning of the French popular government, 
the national vanity was soothed by the incense of flattery from 
its own demagogues, and the natural jacobins of every civil- 
ized state. Addresses from clubs, and from individual incen- 



204 THE NEW ROMANS. 

diaries wei'e Multiplied, and graciously received at the bar of 
the convention. It seemed to be a Roman senate, sitting 
judicially to hear the grievances of all nations, and to parcel 
out the world into provinces. Anacharsis Cloots appeared, 
and harangued the assembly, as the orator of the human 
race. In November, 1792, the safety and independence of 
all states was formally attacked by the decree, that France 
would assist the rebels of all countries against their govern- 
ments. The apologists for French extravagances, after some 
fruitless attempts to justify the principle of this outrage on 
all mankind, have next endeavoured to jjalliate : they say, 
less was intended than the words of the decree seem to im- 
port. When the conduct of France discredited even this 
palliation, it has been since insisted, that the decree was 
adopted in times of violence and confusion, and that it has 
been formally annulled. All periods have been violent, and 
marked with a more than Roman contempt of the rights, 
as well as the opinions of mankind. But Gregorei, in his 
laboured report to the assembly on the laws of nations, in 
which this monstrous decree is supposed to be annulled, 
expressly says, that the application of the principles he had 
exhibited, is the right only of the nations, whose govern- 
ments are founded on the rights of man. The best proof, 
however, that France has not, in form, renounced the decree, 
is, that she has invariably adhered to it in fact. 

It appears by the publications of Brissot and others, that 
the French rulers, like the Roman senate, believed it to be 
necessary rather to employ the fiery turbulent spirit of the 
nation in war abroad, than to let it employ itself in sedition 
at home. It is a general opinion among the democrats of all 
countries, that France was attacked by a royal coalition, 
jealous of her republicanism. The fact is, the French be- 
gan the war in Flanders against the emperour, when his 
towns were without garrisons, the fortifications had been re- 
cently pulled down, and the troops ordinarily kept on foot, 
for their defence did not amount to half their complement. 



THE NEW ROMANS. 205 

With such a spirit as raged in France, and with such in- 
terests and means to turn the fury of the popular passions 
against the emperour and the king of England, peace was 
not to be maintained. When a whole street is on fire, can a 
man set at his ease and say, my house is of brick ; let my 
next neighbour burn ; the fire will burn out, and then the 
bustle and danger will be over. Such are the speeches 
made, and with great popular effect, to inflame the admirers 
of democracy with a zeal for injured, invaded France. 

Jam proxhuus ai-det 

Ucale^on. 

The conflagration of every thing combustible in France ren- 
dered it impossible for other powers to be at peace ; and as 
France will not and cannot change her political character, 
Europe will not be permitted long to enjoy it. So vast a 
power is a continual incentive to ambition ; and such a na- 
tional military spirit naturally leads to power. There are 
many states in Europe still, that might tempt a conqueror ; 
there is not one, except Great Britain, that has the spirit and 
means to resist him. 

It has been already shewn, that the only prevailing popu- 
lar sentiment was the military one. The excess of that 
passion has enabled the government to maintain tranquillity 
as profound, as if there was no war. The French saw tyran- 
ny in Paris, oppression in the provinces ; all commerce, all 
credit, all manufacture was ruined ; but as an ofl'set for want, 
slavery, and ruin, there was victory, and all France shouted 
for joy. 

The manner, in which this Roman power has been used, 
is truly Roman. The neighbouring states have been made, 
not merely the objects of conquest, but the instruments of 
ambition, to effect more conquests. Except Great Britain, 
Portugal, and Turkey, there is not one enemy left, whom 
France has not made her ally. The emperour and the king 
of Naples are to be dishonoui'ed by a stipulation, that their 



2p6 THE NEW ROMANS. 

faithful protectors, the English, shall be excluded from their 
ports. Portugal is supposed, by this time, to be forced to 
adopt the like measure. To cut up Turkey, is said to be the 
object of a late treaty between Buonaparte and the emperour 
Paul of Russia. If this should be effected there will be new 
struggles and revolution ; the established order and balance 
of Europe will be subverted from their foundations ; and 
happy will it be, if, after thirty years war, it should be set- 
tled again as firmly, as it was by the peace of Westphalia, 
in 1648. 

It was in like manner the policy of Rome, to make use 
of her feeble enemies to destroy such as were strong. The 
jEtolians in Greece were first engaged to assist in destroy- 
ing Philip of Macedon. They, finding themselves duped and 
enslaved by the Romans, called in Antiochus, king of Syria, 
to assist them in their defence. The cities of Greece were 
gained, and dexterously played off to destroy the liberties of 
Greece. While Rome and Carthage were contending, the 
great powers, still unconquered, took no part in the contest. 
Thus Rome not only attacked them one after another, but 
was always sure to have the assistance of an old enemy, 
whom she had just conquered into an alliance, to overpower 
<sl new one. Hannibal, after his defeat, fled to Antiochus : it 
was then too late, for Carthage had received the law of the 
conqueror. Antiochus interfered in the affairs of Greece, af- 
ter Philip of Macedon was humbled, and forced to be the ally 
of Rome against him. Mithridates, king of Pontus, had no 
ally, till his power was much enfeebled — then Tigranes join- 
ed him, in time to be defeated. Greece would have been 
strong, if it had been united ; but its numerous governments 
wei'e jealous of one another, often at war, and ready to call 
in the Romans to enslave them all. It seems astonishing, 
that neither Macedon, nor Greece, nor Syria, nor Egypt 
made treaties of mutual defence, or took any sensible mea- 
sure to employ all their joint forces in self-preservatioir. 
The world would have been saved from slavery. 



THE NEW ROMANS. 207 

There is scarcely a single article of Roman policy, in 
which we do not perceive the servile imitation of the French ; 
and if Great Britain was a republick, as Carthage was, there 
would be a faction in its bosom, devoted to France, strong 
enough to ensure her slavery. The fall of Great Britain 
would quench every hope of the I'ecovery of the indepen- 
dence of Europe : a new Roman servitude would spread over 
the civilized world. The United States would be exposed 
to new toils, conflicts, and dangers : faction would raise her 
snaky head with new audacity, confiding in the support 
that France would give to her efforts. We might be alarm- 
ed in time to see the approach of a foreign tyrant ; but we 
should have to fight for our independence, or to resign it. 



[ 208 3 
RUSSIA. 

Fint publislicd in the Palladium, July, 1801. 

X EW things are worse understood, than the condition of 
the Northern powers in respect to England, especially Rus- 
sia. English capital has made their pot-ash first, and then 
paid for it ; it has bought their hemp-seed, paid for plough- 
ing the land, and then purchased the hemp : advances were 
made by English merchants of the capital, many months 
before the product appeared at market. This has been so 
well understood, that American merchants have sent a pur- 
chasing capital, a year beforehand, into Russia to get hemp 
and cordage. The democrats will cry out, this is colonial 
dependence; and ring all the changes on their set of bells. 
It is true, countries half-settled and not half-civilized are, in 
fact, dependent on countries that are blessed with good gov- 
ernment, and the laying-up of industry. Accordingly, the 
war of Russia against England is the effort of poverty against 
the very wealth that alone must employ it. 

Errours in politicks so gross cannot be atoned for by mo- 
derate chastisement. It is impossible, that Russia should 
not suffer political evils of magnitude, in consequence of the 
infatuated counsels of her deceased madman. Ignorance is 
the proper soil for French principles to sprout in ; of course, 
Russia, is in danger of being infected, and, after all, it can- 
not be the political interest of Russia to aggrandize France. 
The naval power of Great Britain is, ever has been, and must 
be favourable to Russia ; the territorial greatness of France 
ever Avill be an impediment. France is interested to keep 
Turkey from falling : France never wishes to see any power 
great, but herself. Eternal barriers are placed between Rus- 
sia and France ; and no tricks of Buonaparte, no caprices 
of Paul, can level them. The attempt to disregard the fixed 
political laws of her being, will entail incalculable evils on 
Russia : it is possible to play the fool in politicks, as in pri- 
vate life, but never with impunity. 



[ 209 ] 



FOREIGN POLITICKS. N°. I. 

PRELIMTNARY OBSERVATIONS. 

JliUROPEAN events have long had such a monopoly of the 
attention of Americans, that we scarcely find leisure or dis- 
position to backbite and persecute e^ch other, as much as the 
rage of party spirit rcviires. Our pride is often offended, that 
our country makes a figure in the world so little conspicuous, 
that others overlook it ; and we almost forget ourselves, while 
we suffer our sympathy and reflections to be exclusively 
engrossed by the events of the foreign war. 

Yet the champions of party ought to be consoled, for the 
diversion of any party of our patriotick energies from the 
domestick scene of controversy, by their own success in ren- 
dering foreign politicks subservient to their design. France, 
though nerve all over, does not feel the dread nor the shame 
of her defeats, nor the insolent joy of her victories, with more 
emotion than our jacobins. They can allege, in excuse for 
the deep concern they take in all the confusion and all the 
injustice of France, that they are not mere speculatists, nor 
subject to impulses that are blind and without object ; but that 
their pure love for the fieople never ceases to animate them 
enough to imitate what they admire, and to introduce what they 
so long have studied, and so well understand. 

The men of sense and virtue have excuses too for their 
anxious solicitude about European aff'airs : there, they may say, 
faction culls her poisons ; and in that bloody field, at length, 
we can perceive the antidote is sprouting. Already the Aurora 
tells us, it is nonsense to talk of liberty under Buonaparte. 
Nevertheless, if France should be superiour in the war, and 
should dictate the terms of peace, our inbred faction, her faith- 
ful ally, would be superiour here. The civilized world can 
enjoy neither safety nor repose, if the most restless and am- 
bitious nation in it, obtains what it has struggled for, a more 
27 



210 FOREIGN POLITICKS. 

thaii Roman sway, and a resistless power to render tlie interests 
of all other states as subservient to its own, as those of her 
Cisalpine allies. The forest that harbours one wild cat, should 
breed many squirrels. Ambition like that of France, requires, 
for its daily sustenance, tameness like that of Spain or Hol- 
land : if all her neighbours were like Britain, Avhere could this 
royal tigress find prey ? 

So far, indeed, is the attention paid by Americans to the 
affairs of Europe from being a subject of reproach, that, on the 
contrary, no period of history will be deemed more worthy of 
study by our statesmen, as well as our youth, than that of the 
last twelve years. 

In France, we behold the effects of trying by the test of 
experience the most plausible metaphysical principles,, in ap- 
pearance the most pure, yet the most surprisingly in contrast 
Avith the corruption of the national manners. Theories, fit for 
angels, have been adopted for the use of a multitude, who have 
been found, when left to what is called their self-government, 
unfit to be called men ; as if the misrule of chaos or of pan- 
demonium would yield to a little instruction in singing psalms 
and divine songs ; as if the passions inherent in man, and a 
constituent part of his jiature, were so many devils that even un- 
believers could cast out, without a miracle, and without fasting 
and prayer. By stamping the rights of man on pocket hand- 
kerchiefs, it was supposed they were vuiderstood by those who 
understand nothing ; and by voting them through the convene 
tion, it would cost a man his life and estate to say, that they 
were not established. 

On groimds so solid Condorcet could proclaim to the en- 
lightened, the fish women, and the mob of the suburbs of St. 
Antoine, all disciples of " the new school of philosophy ;" 
Mr. Jefferson could assure Thomas Paine ; and even the cir- 
cumspect Madison could pronounce in congress, that France 
had improved on all known pkuis of government, and that her 
liberty was immortal. 

Experience has shewn, and it ought to be of all teaching 
the most profitable, that any government by mere popular im- 



FOREIGN POLITICKS. 211 

p^ilses, any plan that excites., instead of restraining, the pas- 
sions of the multitude, is a despotism : it is not, even in its 
beginning, much less in its progress, nor in its issue and ef- 
fects, libertxj. As well might we suppose, that the assassin's 
dagger conveys a restorative balsam to the heart, when it stabs 
it; or that the rottenness and dry bones of the grave will 
spring up again, in this life, endued with imperishable vigour 
and the perfection of angels. To cure expectations, at once 
so foolish and so sanguine, what can be more rational than to 
inspect sometimes the sepulchre of French liberty ? The body 
is not deposited there, for indeed it never existed ; but much 
instruction is to be gained by carefully considering the lying 
vanity of its epitaph. 

The great contest between England and France, also, shews 
the stability and the resources of free governments, and the 
precariousness and wide-spreading ruin of the resort to revo- 
lutionary means. We shall not, therefore, hesitate to present, 
from time to time, the iiiost correct and extensive views Ave 
can take of events in Europe. 

We have made these observations, and we address them 
with the more deliberation to the good sense of. the citizens, 
because it has been a part of the common place of democratick 
foppery to say, W'hat have we to do with Europe ? we are a 
world by ourselves. This they have said a thousand times, 
while they told us the cause of France was the cause of liberty, 
and inseparably our cause. Eveiy body knows, that the mad zeal 
for France was wrought up with the intent to influence Ameri- 
can politicks ; and it did influence, and yet influences them. A 
trading nation, whose concerns extend over the commercial 
world, and whose interests are affected by their wars and revolu- 
tions, cannot expect to be a merely disinterested, though by good 
foi'tune it may be a neutral, spectator. Unless, therefore, we 
survey Europe, as well as America, we do not " take a view of 
the whole ground." And if we must survey it, and our in- 
terests are concerned in the course of foreign events, it is 
obviously important that we should understand what we ob- 



212 FOREIGN POLITICKS. 

serve, and separate, as much as possible, errour from the wis- 
dom that is to be gleaned by experience. 

We invite our able patrons and correspondents to assist us 
in our labours ; and to exercise their candour, if, at any time, 
we should present an imperfect or mistaken view of European 
affairs : we shall not wilfully misrepresent. 



FOREIGN POLITICKS. N° II. 

Great Britain and France are the primary nations ; it 
is evident, that all the rest play a subordinate and secondary 
part. The French adopt this opinion, and call France, Rome, 
and Great Britain, Carthage. If this similitude were exact, 
Britain would sink in the contest. But the British eovern- 
ment is more stable than that of Carthage ; and, therefore, 
faction is a little less virulent and a great deal less powerful. 
Besides, the British superiority on the seas is more clearly, as 
well as more durably established, and more effectively display- 
ed, than that of Carthage. The naval art was rude and imper- 
fect in ancient times ; and those, who then vinderstood it best, 
were little the better for that advantage. Duillius, the Roman 
consul, gained a naval victory with mere landsmen. The rea- 
son Avas, that the ships of war were rowed alongside their an- 
tagonists, and being grappled firmly together, the combat was 
maintained, as in fights on land, by a body of soldiers on each 
side. This being the ordinary event of a seafight, no wonder 
the Roman soldiers, whose valour was the steadiest and the 
best trained in the world, prevailed over the mercenaries of 
Carthage. Every thing is different between England and 
France. So superiour are the English seamen to the French, 
so little now depends on the number of men, and so much 
upon naval art, that the crowd of Frenchmen on board their 
vessels are rather an incumbrance, than an effective force. 
There is seldom a seafight, in which the French escape, al- 
though their crews are far more numerous than those of their 
conquerors. Great Britain, too, enjoys a durable superiority. 



FOREIGN POLITICKS. 2L3 

There must be commerce, befoi-e there will be seamen ; there 
must be a stable government, before there will be a general 
spirit of enterprise and industry to create commerce. The 
hands of labour will be weak, while its earnings are exposed 
to rapine, as in France. It will be an age or two, before that 
nation will get rid of her military tyrants and her revolutionary 
spirit ; and, till she does, her prosperity will be precarious, and 
her naval power Avill be displayed, like that of Turkey, by 
forcing awkward landmen on board ships. Despotism will 
waste men and wealth, and in vain, to imitate the spontaneous 
energies of industry and commerce, fostered by a free and 
stable government. It may be added, that a naval power is 
exerted with infinitely more effect now, than it was in ancient 
times : every nation almost is now vulnerable in its commerce 
and in its colonies ; the ruin of these produces a decay of the 
revenues and resources for war. 

If then France affects to be Rome, she will not find in 
Great Britain a Carthage. Nay, even in the military spirit of 
her people, Britain, with the exercise of one brisk campaign, 
would not be found inferiour to her boastful antagonist. The 
campaign in Egypt evinces, that Englishmen can be good sol- 
diers, as well as seamen. Carthage, on the contrary, was too 
much torn by factions to maintain a good infantry of her own 
citizens : she hired strangers. But her cavalry, as that was not 
a despised service, like the infantry, but attended with honour, 
was excellent, and so superiour to that of Rome, that the Nu- 
midian horse, under Hannibal, won every battle in the open 
plains. 

Carthage was rich, and England is richer ; Carthage w^as 
called free, England is really so ; and if the government of 
Great B ritain were either a democracy or a despotism, it, in 
the first case, would have been shivered to pieces by faction, 
and in the latter, by France, within the first four years of the 
war. None but free governments are stable ; and none that 
are purely democratick are free. We hope, that publick opin- 
ion will so effectually counteract the seduction and the threaten- 
ed preponderance of a violent jacobin administration, that our 



214 FOREIGN POLITICKS. 

own government, so wisely and happily combined, and so well 
adapted to our circumstances and sentiments, will be found, 
after some trials and agitations, to be both stable and free. 

In point of resources, it does not appear, that Britain expe- 
riences any want ; nor that France has, except in the violence 
of force and tyranny, any sort of security for a supply. It was 
foretold years ago, that Great Britain was to be ruined and 
beggared, and must have peace if she took servitude with it. 
The opfiosition assured the nation of the event ; yet time has 
confuted these predictions ; wealth goes on augmenting ; cre- 
dit is the steadier for the shocks that have waved its branches, 
but could not stir its roots. The war is chiefly naval ; and the 
seamen are now formed, and indeed have grown up in the war, 
in sufficient numbers. The expenses, great as they are, are 
not increasing, nor are they lavished in Germany, as they were 
in 1794 and 1795. A long war creates a sort of commerce 
for itself, and, as it were, makes a part of its own means. 
There cannot, therefore, exist a doubt, that Britain is able to 
continue the war. Her land never produced more ; and its 
products never before were worth so much. Her industry 
never was greater ; and the demands for its fabricks were 
never so little divided with competitors. Her tons of ship- 
ping and her trade are greater than at any former period. 
Her capital is doubled ; and it is as sure to create employment, 
as employment is to accumulate capital. These are the foun- 
tains of wealth, and they flow with an unexhausted and pro- 
gressively increasing stream. France is more nearly beg- 
gared by revolution, and Spain by the pride and laziness of her 
people, than Great Britain is by the war. It is a great evil to 
a nation to be obliged to exert all its energies to preserve it- 
self from French fraternity ; but it would be an evil a hundred 
times greater to fall under it. 

The proper test of the justness of these obsei'vations is not, 
that they may appear to offend against some popular preju- 
dices, or that the jacobin gazettes Avill interpret them into the 
most abominable meanings : no one expects, that the jacobins 
will content themselves with the truth on this subject. Inqui- 



FOREIGN POLITICKS. 215 

sitive persons, and fair-minded citizens, are desired to examine, 
before they decide ; and even if they expose the errours of our 
judgment, they Avill advance our purpose, inasmuch as we Avish, 
and it shall be our endeavour to extract from foreign events, 
the sound materials for political instruction. We leave it to 
the jacobin editors to cook for their readers a mawkish aliment 
for prejudice and faction. 

Such readers believe, that, while Great Britain is on the 
verge of bankruptcy and ruin, while she is loathsome in her 
corruptions, and humbled by her fears and her defeats, France 
is renewing her youth and vigour, happy in her liberty, and 
strong by her victories. A European would scarcely believe 
there was in America enough of what, in other countries, is 
called mob^ to give currency to such glaring falsehood. 

France has used, from the first, revolutionary means, in 
other words, all that violence could procure. While England, 
with difficulty, taxed inco?7ie, her rival could, by a decree, 
seize the capital ; and after it had been sold to revolutionary 
buyei's, the next men in power could decree, that these were 
royalists, and seize it a second time : every change brought 
the whole stock to the new mint. One would expect, that 
France was of all nations the richest in resources ; since it 
eould spend all, and then attack the new holders of property, 
and spend it as often as the necessities of liberty might require. 
By a formal decree, all property in France has been declared 
in a state of requisition. The whole people were also enrolled 
and in requisition ; and death, or confiscation of the offender's 
property, ensued on disobedience. Never did Eastern des- 
potism claim more tremendous power, or actually exercise so 
much. Yet violence is ever a temporary resource : it is a fire, 
whose splendour is brilliant ruin. France is now destitute of 
credit, of revenue, of all the ordinary means to extract resources 
from her people ; and she has used and abused the extra- 
ordinary^ till they are almost as unproductive, as they are 
odious. She looks for means abroad ; she looks to Portugal, 
to Italy, to Spain, and to Holland. The field of plunder will not 
bear tAvo crops, and it is already barren. Buonaparte, of course. 



216 FOREIGN POLITICKS. 

sees the varnish of his popularity wearing off, and the hopes 
of his slaves fading into disappointment. Already he fears 
the effects of that temper of the French, which is ever patient 
under tyranny, but ever euger to establish a new tyrant. He 
sees Egypt nearly wrested fi'om his domination ; his splendid 
promises of wealth and glory, in an expedition to subvert the 
British dominion in India, vanish into air ; the powers ot the 
North, whom he duped and betrayed, beaten into a better 
understanding of the law of nations, and embittered agiunst 
their deceiver ; Germany, though too discordant to oppose him 
in the field, yet too powerful to submit to his dictates. The 
secularization of the ecclesiastical states, is too much the con- 
cern of Russia and Prussia, to be carried along on the terms 
of the treaty of Luneviile. He also needs peace to consolidate 
his power, and to give a breathing spell to his exhausted sub- 
jects, and also to induce his triumphant enemy to disarm. 
But, if the English populace have bread, and the English 
minister has sense and spirit, the affair of peace will be decid- 
ed on other grounds, than Buonaparte's desire to obtain it. It 
will be asked, what has England to fear from war ? What has 
she not to fear from peace ? War brings no burdens, of which 
they have not had experience ; no evils, but such as they have 
surmounted. Peace will be a new and untried state of being, 
requiring all the burdens of war taxes, and war forces, and 
giving no respite to Englishmen, while it affords one to France. 
The revolutionary fire is not quenched ; and peace would leave 
it to blaze out again in three years, with a fiercer conflagration 
and a wider ruin than ever. 



FOREIGN POLITICKS. N^. III. 

FEW subjects are considered with so little care, and so 
much party feeling and prejudice, as the political situation of 
France. In respect to her neighbours, she is supposed to 
possess a power as durable as it is preponderant ; and, with 
respect to her own citizens, she is deemed to be as happy as 



FOREIGN POLITICKS. 217 

victory, plenty, and liberty can make her. The grounds of 
these darling errours might be explored with advantage ; but 
it would fill all the columns of a newspaper, and, indeed, the 
pages of an octavo volume, to exhibit the subject in detail. 
Men more competent, than we pretend to be, must write 
books ; and persons more at leisure, than the majority of our 
readers, will read them. A brief and rapid summary of the 
most signal facts and principles, is all that we presume to 
undertake, and even for that^ the materials are scanty, and the 
rage of party has confused and mutilated them. Every booby 
democrat from France comes home to brag of the power and 
splendour of the court of Buonaparte, and of the pure refiub- 
Mcanism and equality of that nation, as if he had exactly the 
same measure of understanding, as of patriotism. It is well 
recollected, that, while Robespiere reigned, and the blood ran 
in Paris, Bourdeaux, Lyons, and Nantz, in streams, that wovild 
have turned corn-mills, every ship's captain arrived with such 
a tale for the jacobin newspapers, as would suit the fashion of 
our market : it seemed as if lies were bespoke and made for 
customers. All was then represented as peace and order, a 
stable government, and a contented, happy, prosperous people. 
The zeal for France invited deception, and sheltered it from 
scrutiny. The jacobins still prefer France to America, and 
tiy very hard to " cover her ivith glory " when she is defeated, 
and to represent the " cowardly Eiiglish" as ruined, when they 
conquer. Accoixlingly, Egypt is still, in the Chronicle, a 
burying ground for the English, where they die of the plague, 
and by the sword of Menou, and by that of the mamelukes 
and Arabs, and thus the Chronicle thrice slays the slain ; yet, 
probably, Egypt is now in the full possession of the English 
and Turks. In this case, one of the supposed difficulties in 
the way of peace is removed; for if Buonaparte holds Egypt, 
it can only be to make it a military post, from which, within 
two years from the signing of a peace, to send forth armies 
against the British possessions in India. A peace, on such 
terms, would be a truce altogether favourable to Buonaparte, 
unfavourable to England. If the spirit of the British nation 
28 



218 FOREIGN POLITICKS. 

is up, the minister will not feel himself obliged to submit to 
any stlch insidious, and indeed hostile, arrangement. The loss 
of Egypt will remove this bone of contention. 

Yet, as France is too powerful to allow her neighbours any 
repose, the only question seems to be, not whether England 
shall lay aside her arms, for that is impossible, even in 
peace, but whether they shall be idle in her hands. While 
she is in danger, she must make all her efforts in self-defence ; 
and surely every jacobin has enough of the Frenchman in his 
heart to allow, if he will speak out, that he wovild use the 
opportunity of peace to prepare the force, and the first moment 
of sedition or insurrection in England, or the decease of king- 
George, or any other favourable event, to employ force, to 
overturn that cursed monarchy, and to strip that nation of its 
navy, commerce, and power. In this state of things, it seems 
justifiable for the British minister to ponder well, whether, if 
safety lies, as it certainly does, in anns, which is the best 
time to employ them, the present, or some future, and not 
distant time, that France shall seize, when England is in si 
state of division and dismay. The question is important, and 
concerns her political life or death. 

It has been already observed, that the British land and naval 
forces cannot be much reduced on a peace. Austria is reci-uit- 
ing her armies, and will soon have need of them, especially if 
she is believed to be unprepared for war. Peace will lessen 
the energies of war, but not its bvirdens. It will, at least in 
some degree, restore the commerce and navy of Britain's 
great rival, while her own trade and industry, now secure in a 
monopoly, will then have to struggle with competition. France 
is now nearly stript of all allies, except such as she has con- 
quered. The independent powers are her foes in fact, or in 
sentiment and policy. Would it not then be strange, if Britain 
should purchase for herself a short truce, full of treachery and 
danger, that would refresh her enemy, and leave to her neither 
a respite nor the hope of advantage ? The clamour for peace, 
so loud, while bread was scarce, ought now to subside in Eng- 



FOREIGX POLITICKS. 219 

land ; and if they are not willing to be Dutchmen or Cisalpines, 
they ought to be willing to be soldiers and seamen. 

War is indeed a great evil, but peace, with danger and 
dishonour, is a greater. It has been the fashion to make it a 
merit for any man to desire peace ; as if the question of peace 
was to be considered in the abstract, and as if the war that 
rages was not a case, like every other, to be examined and 
pronounced upon according to its existing circumstances. 

Supposing, then, the war should continue, because the am- 
bition of France still thirsts for conquest and plunder, and 
because the English government seeks, Avhat peace would 
deny her, security and repose, what are the chances of this 
mighty and long-protracted contest ? England is all powerful at 
sea ; France has hitherto proved victorious on land. Thus far 
the odds are in favour of England, because she can annoy 
France, she can insult her coasts, she can prevent her com- 
merce fi'om reviving, and thus she can distress her enemy in 
his supplies and his finances. France threatens England with 
invasion : is not the threat ridiculous ? Two or three hundred 
English ships and frigates will almost touch one another in the 
channel, and effectually prevent a fleet of French flat -bottomed 
boats from landing an army by surprise. An English army of 
tliree hundred thousand men, fighting for life, liberty, and 
property, wovdd destroy any hostile force that might be dis- 
embarked. The immense land force of France seems to be, 
therefore, nearly useless in the war with England. It serves, 
however, to consume her own resources, and to keep alive the 
jealousy and hatred of her neighbours. Rome subsisted her 
armies by plunder: a war found its own means of supply; and 
from the time of Perseus to the consulship of Hirtius and 
Pansa, the spoils of Macedon and other conquered states, sup- 
plied all expenses ; so that, for more than one hundred years, 
no taxes were imposed on the Roman people. Let it be noted, 
however, that modern wars glean infinitely less from the field 
of plunder ; while they cost, for artillery, sieges, and cavalry, 
infinitely more. To this add the Roman soldiers feared the 
Gods, and religiously kept their oath, to bring all tlie plunder 



^20 FOREIGN POLITICKS. 

into the publick stock ; the Roman senate faithfully and fru- 
gally admmistered this treasure. France plunders Europe ; 
and her tyrants plunder France : it is easier for her to beggar 
Italy, than to satisfy her commissaries. Her trade is war, and 
in a maritime strife this cannot be a gainful trade. The con- 
fusion of twelve years is not to be retrieved by establishing 
martial law for eighteen months. The first consul may issue 
his general orders, that the revolution is over ; all Finance may 
be hushed to silence, like a camp ; yet it will not cease to suf- 
fer, while it trembles. With a fruitful territory, a vast addi- 
tion of subjects by her conquests, and an energy of military 
government, that can take the last dollar, and a man's life, if 
he seems to give it loathly, it might appear, that her pecuniary 
means are not to be exhausted. Let it, however, be noted, 
that these very conquests require a large part of her force and 
treasure to preserve them. Perhaps they now I'equire as 
much as they supply. Already plundered, they cannot soon 
yield any great amount of regular revenue, or even of plunder. 
The immense territory, nominally or effectively conquered by 
France, obliges her to keep on foot two hundred thousand 
men, nearly as many as her peace establishment under Louis 
the sixteenth. Three hundred thousand other troops absorb 
more than all the surplus of her means, after providing for 
other essential objects of government. How is she to defray 
this enormous charge, so much augmented by revolutionary 
confusion and fraud ? The expedients she has resorted to, suffi- 
ciently prove the extremity of her distress on this account. 
She has had paper money ; she has in effect blotted out her 
old debt ; she has repeatedly stopped payment of her new debt, 
which she pretended to call the sacred price of her liberty ; 
she has sold an hundred thousand square miles of confiscated 
estates, the property of men whom she forced to run aAvay to 
save their lives ; she has seized the Caisse d'Escompte and 
the other banks ; she has violently extorted money from the 
jews and bankers of Paris ; she has stript the churches of the 
Austrian Netherlands, and of It; ly ; taxed the Dutch six per 
rent, of all their property ; and forced a loan from all her own 



FOREIGN POLITICKS. 221 

subjects. The conduct of this forced loan shews both her 
poverty and her tyranny : her poverty, because it yielded little 
of what v/as expected from it ; and her tyranny, because no 
Eastern despot ever adopted more arbitrary means of compul- 
sion. The sans-culottes, or rabble, and people of small pro- 
perty, who were violent revolutionists, paid nothing ; while 
the rich were arbitrarily, and without any estimation or rule, 
assessed at pleasure. The tax was a decree of confiscation, 
with such exceptions in its collection, as to make it robbery. 
There never was a moment, when the government did not use 
all the rigours of tyranny to procure money ; nor one, when 
the collection of it supplied any adequate resoui'ces : the peo- 
ple have ever suffered oppression, and the government want. 
Let it be well considered, then, how desperate the contest 
must be for France, provided the English be able to maintain 
it for some years longer. The English are not a stupid peo- 
ple, nor have they a feeble government : they will discern the 
almost certainty of their success, and will persevere to ensure 
it. The civilized world, long endangered by France, will then 
be again in security. 



C 222 ] 



HERCULES. 

IIHST rUBLISHED IN THE PALLADIUM, OCTOBEH, IbOJ. 
TO PEINTERS. 

At seems as if newspaper wares were made to suit a market, 
as much as any other. The starers, and wonderers, and 
gapers, engross a very large share of the attention of all 
the sons of the type. Extraordinary events multiply upon 
us surprisingly. Gazettes, it is seriously to be feared, will 
not long allow room to any thing, that is not loathsome or 
shocking. A newspaper is pronounced to be veiy lean and 
destitute of matter, if it contains no account of murders, sui- 
cides, prodigies, or monstrous births. 

Some of these tales excite horrour, and others disgust ; yet 
the fashion reigns, like a tyrant, to relish wonders, and almost 
to relish nothing else. Is this a reasonable taste ? or is it mon- 
strous and worthy of ridicule ? Is the history of Newgate the 
only one worth reading ? Are oddities only to be hunted ? Pi'ay 
tell us, men of ink, if our free presses are to diffuse informa- 
tion^ and we, the poor ignorant people, can get it no other way 
than by newspapers, what knowledge we are to glean from the 
blundering lies, or the tiresome truths about thunder storms, 
that, strange to tell ! kill oxen or burn barns ; and cats, that 
bring two-headed kittens ; and sows, that eat their own pigs ? 
The crowing of a hen is supposed to forbode cuckoldom ; and 
the ticking of a little bug in the wall threatens yellow fever. 
It seems really as if our newspapers were busy to spread super- 
stition. Omens, and dreams, and prodigies, are recorded, as 
if they were worth minding. One would think our gazettes 
were intended for Roman readers, who were silly enough to 
make account of such things. We ridicule the papists for 
their ci'edulity ; yet, if all the trumpery of our papers is be- 
lieved, we have little right to laugh at any set of people on 
earth ; and if it is not believed, why is it printed ? 



HEECULES. 223 

Surely, extraordinary events have not the best title to our 
studious attention. To study nature or nian, we ought to know 
things that are in the ordinary course, not the unaccountable 
things that happen out of it. 

This country is said to measure^ seven hundred millions of 
acres, and is inhabited by almost six millions of people. Who 
can doubt, then, that a great many crimes will be committed, 
and a great many strange things will happen every seven 
years ? There will be thunder showers, that will split tough 
white oak trees ; and hail storms, that will cost some farmers 
the full amount of tiventy shillings to mend their glass win- 
dows ; there will be taverns, and boxing matches, and elec- 
tions, and gouging, and drinking, and love, and murder, and 
running in debt, and running away, and suicide. Now, if a 
man sujiposes eight, or ten, or twenty dozen of these amusing 
events will happen in a single year, is he not just as wise as 
another man, who reads fifty columns of amazing particulars, 
and, of course, knows that they have happened ? 

This state has almost one hundred thousand dwelling 
houses : it would be strange, if all of them should escape fire 
for twelve months. Yet is it very profitable for a man to be- 
come a deep student of all the accidents, by which they are 
consumed ? He should take good care of, his chimney corner, 
and put a fender before the back-log, before he goes to bed. 
Having done this, he may let his aunt or grandmother I'ead by 
day, or meditate by night, the terrible newspaper articles of 
fires ; how a maid dropped asleep reading a romance, and the 
bed-clothes took fire ; how a boy, searching in a garret for a 
hoard of nuts, kindled some flax ; and how a mouse, warming 
his tail, caught it on fire, and carried it into his hole in the 
floor. 

Some of the shocking articles in the papers raise simple, 
and very simple, wonder ; some, terrour ; and some, horrour 
and disgust. Now what instruction is there in these endless 
wonders ? Who is the wiser or happier for reading the ac- 
counts of them ? On the contrary, do they not shock tender 
minds, and addle shallow brains ? Thev make a thousand old 



224 HERCULES. 

maids, and eight or ten thousand booby boys, afraid to go to 
bed alone. Worse than this happens ; for some eccentrick 
minds are turned to mischief by such accounts, as they receivcj 
of troops of incendiaries burning our cities : the spirit of imi- 
tation is contagious ; and boys are found unaccountably bent to 
do as men do. When the man flew from the steeple of the 
North church fifty years ago, every unlucky boy thought of 
nothing but flying from a signpost. 

It was once a fashion to stab hereticks ; and Ravaillac, who 
stabbed Henry the fourth of France, the assassin of the duke 
of Guise, and of the duke of Buckingham, with many others, 
only followed the fashion. Is it not in the power of newspa- 
pers to spread fashions ; and by dinning burnings and murders 
in every body's ears, to detain all rash and mischievous tem- 
pers on such subjects, long enough to wear out the first im- 
pression of horrour, and to prepare them to act what they so 
familiarly contemplate ? Yet there seems to be a sort of rival- 
ship among printers, who shall have the most wonders, and 
the strangest and most horrible crimes. This taste will mul- 
tiply prodigies. The superstitious Romans used to forbid re- 
ports of nev/ prodigies, while they were performing sacrifices 
on such accounts. 

Every horrid story in a newspaper produces a shock ; but, 
after some time, this shock lessens. At length, such stories 
are so far from giving pain, that they rather raise curiosity, 
and we desire nothing so much, as the particulars of terrible 
tragedies. The wonder is as easy as to stare ; and the most 
vacant mind is the most in need of such resources as cost no 
trouble of scrutiny or reflection : it is a sort of food for idle 
curiosity, that is ready chewed and digested. 

On the whole, we may insist, that the increasing fashion for 
printing wonderful tales of crimes and accidents is worse than 
ridiculous, as it corrupts both the publick taste and morals. It 
multiplies fables, prodigious monsters, and crimes, and thus 
makes shocking things familiar ; while it withdraws all popular 
attention from familiax' truth, because it is not shocking. 



HERCULES. 225 

Now, Messrs. Printers, I pray the whole honourable craft, 
to banish us many murders, and horrid accidents, and mon- 
strous births and prodigies from their gazettes, as their readers 
will permit them ; and, by degrees, to coax them back to con- 
template life and manners ; to consider common events with 
some common sense ; and to study nature, where she can be 
known, rather than in those of her ways, where she really is, 
or is represented to be, inexplicable. 

Strange events are facts, and as such should be mentioned, 
but with brevity and in a cursory manner. They afford no 
ground for popular reasoning or instruction ; and, therefore, the 
horrid detidls, that make each particular htdr stiffen and stand 
upright in the reader's head, ought not to be given. In short, 
they must be mentioned ; but sensible printers and sensible 
readers will think that way of mentioning them the best, that 
impresses them least on the publick attention, and that hurries 
them on the most swiftly to be forgotten. 



C 226 ] 

NO REVOLUTIONIST. 

First published hi the Palladium, KovcmOer, 1801. 

IVAANY persons seem to despair of the commonwealth. 
They say, it is evident, a violent jacobin administration is begun. 
The address to the popular passions, they argue, is generally 
successful ; and always very encouragingly rejected, even when 
it is not. While federalists rely on the sense of the people, 
the jacobins appeal to their nonsense witli infinite advantage : 
they affect to be entirely on the /leofile's side ; and their mis- 
take, if, by great good luck, it is supposed they err, is ascribed 
to a good motive, in a manner and spirit that invites fresh 
attempts to deceive. Thus the deceivers of the people tire 
out their adversaries ; they try again and again ; and an attempt 
that is never abandoned, at last will not fail. What then, it is 
asked, can be done ? AVe have an enlightened people, who are 
not poor, and, therefore, are interested to keep jacobinism 
down, which ever seeks plunder as the end, and confusion as 
the means. Yet the best informed of this mighty people are 
lazy ; or ambicious, and go over to the cause of confusion ; or 
are artfully rendered unpopular, because they will not go over 
to it. The sense, and virtue, and property of the nation, there- 
fore, will not govern it ; but every day shews, that its vice, and 
poverty, and ambition will. We have been mistaken. In our 
affairs, Ave have only thought of what was to be hindered, and 
provided sufficiently for nothing that was to be done. We 
have thought that virtue, with so many bright rewards, had 
some solid power ; and that, with ten thousand charms, she 
could always command a hundred thousand votes. Alas ! thesf 
illusions are as thin as the gloss on other bubbles. Politician 
have supposed, that man really is what he should be ; that hi 
reason will do all it can, and his passions and prejudice n- 



NO REVOLUTIONIST. 227 

more than they ought ; whereas his reason is a mere looker-on ; 
it is moderation, when it should be zeal ; is often corrupted 
to vindicate, where it should condemn ; and is a coAvard or a 
trimmer, that will take hush-money. Popular reason does not 
always know how to act right, nor does it always act right, 
when it knows. The agents that move politicks, are the popu- 
lar passions ; and those are ever, from the very nature of things, 
under the command of the disturbers of society. While those 
who would defend order, and property, and right, the real 
friends of law and liberty, have a great deal to say to silence 
passion, but nothing to offer that will satisfy it ; nothing that 
will convince a sans-culotte that his ignorance, or vice, and lazi- 
ness, ordain that he should be poor, while a demagogue tells 
him it is the funding system that makes him poor, and revo- 
lution shall make him rich. Few can reason, all can feel ; and 
such an argument is gained, as soon as it is proposed. While 
then the popular passions are sure to govern, and the reason 
of the society is sure to be awed into silence, or to be disre- 
garded, if it is heard, what hope is there that our course will 
not be as headlong, as rapid, and as fatal, as that of evei"y 
government by mere popular impulse has ever been ? The 
turnpike road of history is white with the tombstones of such 
republieks. 

Answer. — ilf our government must fall, as it may very 
deplorably, and soon, and as it certainly must with a violent 
jacobin administration, let the monstrous wickedness of work- 
ing its dovrafal really be, and appear^ if possible, to the whole 
people to be chargeable to the jacobins. Let the federalists 
cling to it, while it has life in it, and even longer than there 
is hope. Let them be auxiliary to its virtues ; let them 
contend for its corpse, as for the body of Patroclus ; and let 
them reverence its memory. Let them delay, if they cannot 
prevent, its fate ; and let them endeavour so to animate, in- 
struct, and combine the true friends of liberty, that a noAv repub- 
lican system may be raised on the foundations of the present 
government. Despair not only hastens the evil, but renders any 



-28 NO REVOLUTIONIST. 

remedy unavailing. Time, that sooths all other sufferings, will 
bring no relief to us, if we neglect or throw away the means 
in our hands. What are they ? Truth and argument. They are 
feeble means, feeble indeed, against prejudice and passion ; 
yet they are all we have, and we must try them. They will 
be jury masts, if we are shipwrecked. 

The managers of the plan of confusion, are not numerous : 
for that reason, they are the better united. They are a desperate 
gang, chiefly resident in the city of New-York, in Pennsylvania, 
and Vii'ginia. No men on earth more despise democracy ; or 
are more overbearing in their dispositions ; or form vaster 
plans of personal aggrandizement. Yet, as they have need of 
the democrats^ who are more numerous, are honester, and 
more in credit than the jacobins, they are obliged to make use 
of them. They flatter and deceive, and will surely betray them, 
as Cromwell and the independents did the presbyterians, in 
1648, in England. 

They will abolish credit, by taxing the funds ; they will 
abolish justice, by transferring the judiciaiy to the states, that 
is, to Virginia. They will push on the democratick traders 
lo do violent things, which will surely make them odious; and 
Lhen they will expect, that the resentments of the honest federal- 
ists will assist the jacobins to supplant the democrats. The 
ruling party contains within itself the seeds of discord ; yet, 
though the revolutionary spirit, once indulged, naturally leads 
to changes, they are sure to be changes for the worse : a more 
>iolent faction will dispossess one that is moderate. 

The question, therefore, seems to be, how far we shall pro- 
bably travel in the revolutionary road ; and whether there is 
any stopping place, any hope of taking breath, as we run 
towards the bottomless pit, into which the revolutionary fury 
is prone to descend. France had twenty three millions poor, 
and one million rich ; America has twenty three persons at 
(;ase, to one in want. Our rabble is not numerous ; and a 
reform in our elections ought to exclude those, who have 
nothing, or almost nothing, from the control of every thing. 



NO REVOLUTIONIST. 2^9 

Our assailants arc, therefore, weaker, and our means of defence 
greater than the first patriots of France possessed ; our good 
men, instead of running away, like the French emigrants, and 
giving up their estates to confiscation, must stay at home, and 
exert their talents and influence to save the country. Events 
may happen to baffle the schemes of jacobinism ; and if New- 
England should not be sleepy or infatuated, of which there is, 
unhappily, great danger, our adversaries will never be able to 
push the work of mischief to its consummation. 



C 230 3 
EQUALITY. N°. I. 

Firtt published in the Palladium, Nairmber, 1801. 

Jl here are some popular maxims, which are scarcely 
credited as true, and yet are cherished as precious, and de- 
fended as even sacred. Most of the democratick articles of 
faith are blended with truth, and .see??i to be true ; and they so 
comfortably sooth the pride and envy of the heart, that it 
swells with i^esentment, Avhen they are contested, and suffers 
some spasms of apprehension, even when they are examined. 
Mr. Thomas Paine's writings abound with this sort of specious 
falsehoods and perverted truths. Of all his doctrines none, 
perhaps, has created more agitation and alarm than that, which 
proclaims to all men, that they are free and equal. This 
creed is older than its supposed author, and was thread-bare 
in America, before Mr. Pame ever saw our shores ; yet it had 
the effect, in other parts of the world, of novelty. It was ?zews, 
that the French revolution scattered through the world. It 
made the spirit of restlessness and innovation universal. Those 
who could not be ruled by reason, resolved that they would not 
be restrained by power. Those who had been governed by 
law, hungered and thirsted to enjoy, or rather to exercise, the 
new prerogatives of a democratick majority, which, of right, 
could establish, and, for any cause or no cause at all, could 
change. They believed that by making their own and other 
men's passions sovereign^ they should invest man with imme- 
diate perfectibility, and breathe into their regenerated liberty 
an ethereal spirit that would never die. Slaves grew weary 
of their chains, and freemen sick of their rights. The true 
liberty had no charms, but such as the philosophists affirmed 
had been already rifled. The lazaroni of Naples, fifty thou- 
sand houseless, naked wretches, heard of their rights and con- 
sidered their wants as so many wrongs. The soldiers of 
Prussia were ready for town-meetings. Even in Constantino- 
ple, it seemed as if the new doctrine would overpower the 



EQUAUTY. 231 

sedative action of opium, and stimulate the drowsy Turks to a 
Parisian frenzy. It is not strange, that slaves should sigh for 
liberty, as for some unknown good. But England and the 
United States of America, while in the full fruition of it, were 
almost tempted to renounce its possession for its promise. 
Societies were formed in both countries, which considered and 
represented their patriotism as the remnant of their preju- 
dices ; and tlie old defences of their liberty as the fortresses of 
an enemy, the means and the badges of their slavish subjec- 
tion. 

All men being free and equal, rulers become our servants, 
from whom we claim obligation, though we do not admit their 
right to exact any. This generation, being equal to the last, 
owes no obedience to its institutions ; and, being wiser., owes 
them not even deference. It would be treachery to man, so 
long obstructed and delayed in his progress towards perfecti- 
bility, to forbear to exercise his rights. What if the existing 
governments should resist this new claim of tlie people, yet 
the people to be free, have only to will it ! What if this age 
should bleed, the next, or the twentieth after tliis, will be dis- 
encumbered from the rubbish of the gothick building that we 
have subverted ; and may lay the foundations of liberty as deep, 
and raise the pillars of its temple as high, as those who thmk 
correctly of its perpetuity and grandeur can desire. 

With opinions so wild, and passions so fierce, the spirit of 
democracy has been sublimated to extravagance. There was 
nothing in the danger that affected other men's persons or 
rights that could intimidate, nothing in their sufferings that 
could melt them. They longed to see kings, and priests, and 
nobles expiring in tortures. This humane sentiment Barlow 
has expressed in verse. The massacres of Paris, the siege of 
Lyons, the drovmings of Nantz, the murders in the name of 
justice, that made hosts of assassins weaiy of their work, were 
so many evils necessary to bring about good, or only so many 
acts of just retaliation of the oppressed upon their oppressors. 
The " enlightened" philosophists surveyed the agitations of 
the world, as if they did not live in it ; as if they occupied, as 



232 EQUALITY. 

mere spectators, a safe position in some star, and beheld revo- 
lutions sometimes brightening the disk of this planet with 
their fires, and at others dimming it with their vapours. They 
could contemplate, unmoved, the whirlwind, lifting the hills 
from their base, and mixing their ruins with the clouds. They 
could see the foundations of society gaping in fissures, as when 
an earthquake struggles from the centre. A true philosopher 
is superiour to humanity : he could walk at ease over this 
earth, if it were unpeopled ; he could tread, with all the plea- 
sure of curiosity, on its cinders, the day after the final confla- 
gration. 

Equality, they insist, will indemnify mankind for all these 
apprehensions and sufferings. As some ages of war and anar- 
chy may pass away, before the evils incident to the struggles 
of a revolution are exhausted, this generation might be allow- 
ed to have some cause to object to innovations, that are cer- 
tainly to make them wretched, although, possibly .^ the grand- 
children of their grandchildren may be the better for their 
suffei'ings. This slender hope, however, is all that the illu- 
minists have proposed, as the indemnity for all the crimes and 
misery of France, and all the horrours of the new revolutions, 
that they wish to engender in Europe, from the Bosphorus to 
the Baltick. What is meant by this boastful equality ? and 
what is its value ? 



EQUALITY. N°. II. 

THE philosophers among the democrats will no doubt in- 
sist, that they do not mean to erjualise property, they contend 
only for an equality of rights. If they restrict the word equality 
as carefully as they ought, it will not import, that all men have 
an equal right to all things, but, that to wimtever they have a 
right, it is as much to be protected and provided for, as the 
right of any persons in society. In this sense, nobody will 
contest their claim. Yet, though the right of a poor -man is 



EQUALITY. 233 

as much his right, as a rich man's, there is no great novelty 
or wisdom in the discovery of the principle, nor are the 
French entitled to any pre-eminence on this account. The 
magna charta of England, obtained, I think, in the year 1216, 
contains the great body of what is called, and our revolution- 
ists of 1776 called it, English libertij. This they claimed as 
their birth-right, and with good I'cason ; for it enacts, that 
justice shall not be sold, nor denied, nor delayed ; and, as, 
soon afterwards, the trial by jury grew into general use, 
the subjects themselves are employed by the government to 
apply remedies, when rights are violated. For true equality 
and the rights of man, there never was a better or a wiser 
provision, as, in fact, it executes itself. This is the precious 
system of true equality, imported by our excellent and ever 
to be venerated forefathers, which they prized as their birth- 
right. Yet this glorious distinction of liberty, so ample, so 
stable, and so temperate, secured by the common law, has 
been reviled and exhibited to popular abhorrence, as the 
shameful badge of our yet colonial dependence on England. 
As the common law secures equally all the rights of the 
citizens, and as the jacobin leaders loudly decry this system, 
it is obvious, that they extend their views still farther. Un- 
doubtedly, they include in their plan of equality, that the ci- 
tizens shall have assigned to them new rights, and different 
from what they now enjoy. You have earned your estate, 
or it descended to you from your father ; of course, my 
right to your estate is not as good as yours. Am I then to 
have, in the new order of things, an equal right with you ? 
Certainly not, every democrat of any understanding will re- 
ply. What then do you propose by your equality ? You 
have earned an estate ; I have not ; yet I have a right, and 
as good a right as another man, to earn it. I may save my 
earnings, and deny myself the pleasures and comforts of life, 
till I have laid up a competent sum to provide for my infir- 
mity and old age. All cannot be rich, but all have a right 
to make the attempt ; and when some have fully succeeded, 
3Q 



ii 



23-i EQUALITY. 

and others partially, and others not at all, the several states, 
in Avhich they then find themselves, become their condition 
in life ; and vv^hatever the rights of that condition may be, 
they are to be faithfully secured by the laws and govern- 
ment. This, however, is not the idea of the men of i/ie rieio 
order of things, for, thus far, the plan belongs to a very old 
order of things. 

They consider a republican government as the only one, 
in which this sort of equality can exist at all. A tyrant, or 
a king, which all democrats suppose to be words of like im- 
port, might leave the rights of his subjects unviolated. The 
grand seignior is arbitrary ; the heavy hand of his despot- 
ism however falls only on the great men in office, the aristo- 
crats, whom it must be a pleasure to the admirers of equality 
to see strangled by the bow-string ; the great body of the 
subjects of the Turkish government lead a very undisturbed 
life, enjoying a stupid security from the oppressions of pow- 
er. To enjoy rights, without having proper security for 
their enjoyment, ought not indeed to satisfy any political 
reasoners, and this is precisely the difficulty of the demo- 
cratick sect. All the rights and equality they admire are 
destitute of any rational security, and are of a nature utterly 
subversive of all true liberty. For, on close examination, it 
turns out, that their notion of equality is, that all the citizens 
of a republick have a7i equal right to fiolitical fioiver. This is 
called republicanism. This hastens the journey of a dema- 
gogue to power, and invests him with the title of the man of 
the jieolile. This, the people are told, is their great cause, 
in opposition to the coalesced tyrants of Europe, and the in- 
triguing federal aristocrats in America. 

"^' Let me cut out the tongue of that blasphemer, every de- 
mocratick zealot will exclaim, who dares to deny the right- 
ful and unlimited power of the people. It is indeed a very 
inveterate evil of our politicks, that popular opinion has been 
formed rather to democracy, than to sober republicanism. 
The American revolution was, in fact, after IT/e, a resistance 



EQUALITY. 235 

to foreign government. We claimed the right to govern our- 
selves, and our patriots never contemplated the claim of the 
imported united Irish, that a mob should govern us. It is true, 
that the checks on the power of the people themselves were 
not deemed so necessary, as on the temporary rulers whom 
we elected : we looked for danger on the same side, where 
we had been used to look, and suspected every thing but our- 
selves. Our dread of rulers devoted them to imbecility ; 
our presumptuous confidence in ourselves puffed all the 
weak, and credulous, and vain, with an opinion, that no 
power was safe but their own, and, therefore, that should be 
inicontrollable and have no limits. This is democracy, and 
not republicanism. The French revolution has been made 
the instrument of faction ; it has multiplied popular errours, 
and rendered them indocile. Restraints on the power of the 
people, seem to all democrats, foolish, for how shall they 
restrain themselves ? and mischievous, because, as they 
think, the power of the people is their liberty. Restraints, 
that make it less, and, on every inviting occasion for mis- 
chief and the oppression of a minority, make it nothing, 
will appear to be the abandonment of its principles and 
cause. 



EQUALITY. N^. III. 

ALL democrats maintain, that the people have an inherent, 
unalienable right to jiower : there is nothing so fixed, that 
they may not change it ; nothing so sacred, that their voice, 
which is the voice of God, would not unsanctify and consign 
to destruction : it is not only true, that no king, or parliament, 
or generation past can bind the people ; but they cannot 
even bind themselves : the will of the majority is not only 
law, but right : having an unlimited right to act as they please, 
whatever they please to act is a rule. Thus, virtue itself.. 



236 EQUALITY. 

thus, publick faith, thus, common honesty, are no more 
than arbitrary rules, which the people have, as yet, abstained 
from rescinding ; and when a confiscating or paper money 
majority in congress should ordain otherwise, they would be 
no longer rules. Hence, the worshippers of this idol ascribe 
to it attributes inconsistent with all our ideas of the Supreme 
Being himself, to whom we deem it equally impious and 
absurd to impute injustice. Hence, they argue, that a publick 
debt is a burden to be thrown off, whenever the people grow 
weary of it ; and hence, ■• they, somewhat inconsistently, 
pretend, that the very people cannot make a constitution, 
authorizing any'^restraint upon malicious lying against the 
government. So that, according to them, neither religion, 
nor morals, nor policy, nor the people themselves can erect 
any barrier against the reasonable or the capricious exercise 
of their power. Yet, what these cannot do, the spirit of sedi- 
tion can ; this is more sacred than religion or justice, and 
dearer than the general good itself. For it is evident, that, 
if we will have the unrestricted liberty of lying against our 
magistrates, and laws, and government, we can have no other 
liberty ; and the clamorous jacobins have decided, that such 
liberty, without any other, is better than every other kind of 
liberty without it. 

Is it true, however, (if it be not rebellion to inquire) that 
this uncontrolled power of the people is their right, and that 
it is absolutely essential to their liberty ? All our individual 
lights are to be exercised with due regard to the rights of 
others ; they are tied fast by restrictions, and are to be exer- 
cised within certain reasonable limits. How is it, then, that 
the democrats find a rip.ht in the whole people so much 
more extensive, than what belongs to any one of their num- 
ber ? In other cases, the extremes of any principle are so 
many departures from principle. V/hy is it, then, that they 
make popular right to consist wholly in extremes, and that 
so absolutely, that, without such boundless pretensions, they 
say it could not subsist at all ? Checks on the people them- 
selves are not merely clogs, but chains. They are usurpa- 



EQUALITY. 337 

tioiis^ which should be abolished, even if in practice they 
prove useful ; for, they will tell you, precedent sanctions 
and introduces tyranny. Neither Commodus nor Caligula 
were ever so flattered with regard to the extent of their 
power, and the impiety of setting bounds to it, as any people 
who listen to demagogues. 

The writings of Thomas Paine, and the democratick news- 
papers will evince, that this representation of their doctrine 
is not caricatured : it is not more extravagant than they 
represent it themselves. They often, indeed, aflirm, that 
they are not admirers of a mere democracy : they know it 
will prove licentious : they are in favour of an energetick 
government. 

It is both more satisfactory and more safe, to trust to the 
conduct of a party, than their firofessions. What says the 
conduct of the party ? Either the power of the people in 
the United States is absolutely uncontrolled, or the executive 
authority, the senate, and the courts of law, are the branches 
constituted to check it. Now, is it not notorious, that one 
great complaint of the jacobins against the federalists is, that 
the latter are friendly to the executive department. They 
are, on the contrary, the friends of the people, and on all 
occasions bold and eager to enlarge their privileges and influ- 
ence in the government It is not amiss to notice, though 
it is somewhat of a digression, that, of late, the jacobins vin- 
dicate, in their own president, an extent of executive power 
and patronage, such as neither Washington, nor Adams, 
nor their friends, ever thought of claiming, or exercising. 
They say it is right, that the president should displace 
all federalists, and thus all officers become his creatures 
and dependents. Thus, a standing army of corruption is 
to be formed, to be drawn out in array on every election. 
When the British treaty was depending, these men contend- 
ed, that no treaty was binding, after being ratified by the 
president and senate, until the immediate representatives 
of the people had approved it. This was Mr. Gallatin's 
disorganizing and unconstitutional doctrine. Yet every de- 



238 EQUALITY. 

mocrat extols Mr. Jefferson for delivering up the Bcrceau, 
and carrying the French treaty into full effect, before con- 
gress has even met to consider it. Even this houst; of repre- 
sentatives, that was thus to be supreme over the supreme 
treaty-making power, was nevertheless to be subject to a 
power superiour to itself. The people of any district could 
instruct their members, and such instructions bind him 
against the plain dictates of his honour and conscience : he 
must be a rebel to the people, if he will not be perjured. 

Besides, the remonstrances of any description of citizens 
are so many expressions of the will of the sovereign., and 
being his will., ought to become law. Thus congress is to 
be, in all its branches, somewhat less than a mother jacobin 
club, which has ever been allowed to prescribe rules of con- 
duct to its affiliated clubs. The senate is as little spared in 
this plan of apportionment of power by the democrats : they 
uniformly denominate this body the dark divan, the conclave, 
the aristocratick branch of the government. The famous 
Virginia amendments, proposed, when democracy was in its 
zenith, to render this branch null, and to make it less a 
barrier against licentiousness than its convenient instrument. 
Let every thinking man read those amendments with atten- 
tion, and he will see, that to reform our government was not 
the object, but to subvert it. 

In point of theory, notions somewhat more correct have 
prevailed in regard to the judiciary. Yet, even on this point, 
at this moment, the democratick gazettes assure us, that 
their majority will abolish the new judiciary by repealing 
the law. Thus, the judges are to hold their offices during 
good behaviour : they cannot be removed at pleasure ; but, 
as they stand upon the law, that very foundation, the demo- 
crats tell us, can be torn up. So that one great barrier of 
the constitution, erected to answer the ends of justice and 
publick safety, when either government or the people them- 
selves " feel power and forget right," may be subverted 
indirectlij, though not directly : the democrats cannot get 



EQUALITY. 259 

over it ; but they say they will get round it. Instead of stop- 
ping the flood of democratick. licentiousness, this dam is to 
be the first obstacle that is swept away. 

Let the considerate friends of rational liberty decide then 
from factsy from the most authentickand solemn transactions 
of the democratick party, whether there be any check, limi- 
tation, or control, that they would impose on the people ; or 
any now existing, that they would not first weaken and then 
abolish. If the sober citizens really wish for a simple demo- 
cracy, and that the power of the people shall be arbitrary 
and uncontrollable, then let them weigh the consequences 
well, before they consent to the tremendous changes that 
the federal government must undergo, before it will be fit 
for a democracy. Let them consider the sacrifices of liberty, 
as well as order, of blood, as well as treasure, that this sort 
of government never fails to exact ; and if, on due reflection, 
they choose these consequences, then let them elect, and let 
them follow in arms, the men who are so much infatuated 
to bring them about ; for " infuriated man will seek his long- 
" lost liberty through desolation and carnage." If, however, 
they prefer the constitution, as it was made, and as it has 
been honestly administered, they will cling to the old cause 
and the old friends of federal republicanism, which they have 
tried in trying times, and, of course, know how to value and 
to trust. 



EQUALITY. N". IV. 

THERE is perhaps no country in the world, where vision- 
ary theory has done so much to darken political knowledge, 
as in France, nor where facts appear at length so conspi- 
cuously to enlighten it. The doctrines of equality, and 
the rights of man, and the uncontrolled power of the people, 
whose voice is, rather unintelligibly, said to be the voice of 
God, have been so prevalent, that most persons have allowed 
the French to be political discoverers ; and that they were, 



240 EQUALITY. 

certainly, not God's, but some other being's, chosen people, 
selected to preserve the true faith in politicks from corrup- 
tion and oblivion. These lofty claims French modesty urged 
in every country, as if they were Romans, and the others, 
barbarians. Our Jmtriotick sophists very meekly admitted 
their claim. 

Time is as little a friend to folly, as to hypocrisy. It 
obliges the intemperate sometimes to be sober, and makes 
knavery tired of its mask. The French revolutionary gov- 
ernment is now in its teens, and we are compelled, with 
some steadiness of attention, to behold those features, which 
democratick fondness shut its eyes to imagine were divine 
in its cradle. Never was popular admiration more extrava- 
gant ; never were its disappointments more signal or com- 
plete. The French revolution is one of those dire events, 
that cannot happen without danger, nor end without advantage 
to mankind. It is a rare inundation, whose ravages shew the 
utmost high-water mark : an earthquake, that has laid bare 
a mine : a comet, whose track through the sky, while it scat- 
ters pestilence, excites the curiosity of astronomers, and 
rewards it. 

When the French revolution began, many of the best, and 
even some few of the wisest, rejoiced in some of the most 
pernicious, and most absurd of its measures. Down with the 
nobles, was the cry of the Tiers Etat^ or thii'd estate, and it was 
echoed here : let all the three orders vote in one chamber, in 
other words, let there be but one order, the democratick : 
that will rule and the others bleed. Down with the priest- 
hood, was the next cry : abuses.so great have been tolerated 
too long : we reform too late, and therefore we cannot re- 
form too much. The many millions of church property 
were, of course, by a simple vote of a majority, r^-annexed, 
as they called robbery, to the nation. The nobles were next 
dismounted in an evening's sitting, and in a fit of emulation 
in extravagance. All was xlone without reasoning and by 
acclamation. The sovereign mob of the suburbs of Paris, 



EQUALITY. 241 

called St. Antoine and Rue Marcel, were next employed. The 
baslile was taken ; liberty celebrated her triumphs, she trod 
upon a plain, on the rubbish of her tyrants' palaces, whose 
ruins were not left as high as their foundations. Her path 
seemed to be smooth ; all obstacles were removed ; all men 
were free and ec[ual ; those who had rescued liberty by their 
blood were ready to shed it in her defence. Where are her 
friends ? Behold them arrayed in armies, brandishing their 
pikes. Where are -her enemies? See their heads dropping 
gore on those pikes. Is not the danger over ? Is not the vic- 
tory won ? Are not the French free, and perfectly secure in 
their freedom ? 

Every sagacious democrat answered all these questions in 
the aflBrroative. 

Nobody seemed any longer to have power, but the people. 
Thnj had all power, and, of course, unbounded liberty. How 
little is it considered, that arbitrary power, no matter whether 
of prince or people, makes tyrcuiny ; and that in salutary re- 
straint is liberty. A stupid, ferocious multitude, who are unfit 
to be free, may pky the tyrant for a day, just long enough to 
put a sceptre of iron into their leader's hand. To use tjuaint 
language, in order to be the more intelligible, it may be said, 
that, when there is no end to the power of a multitude, there 
can be no beginning to their liberty. 

Review the transactions in France since 1789, and it will 
appear, that there is no condition of a state, in which it is 
more impossible that liberty should subsist, or more nearly 
impossible thi.it, after being lost, it should be retrieved, than 
after order has been overthrown, and popular licentiousness 
triumphs in its stead. 

The old government of France was a bad one ; but the new 
order of things was infinitely worse. Most persons suppose 
this is to be ascribed to the excess of liberty ; they think tliere 
was too much of a good thing. Now the truth is, tliere was 
no liberty at all — absolutely none from the first, no reasonable 
hope, scarcely a lucky chance for it. Who had liberty ? Clearly 
not the king, the nobles, nor the priests, nor the king's minis- 



242 EQUAUTY. 

ters; all these were in jeopardy from the 14th Jvily, 1789: 
not the rich ; they were robbed and driven into banishment : 
not the great military officers who had gained glory in the 
Amei'ican war ; they were slain : not the farmers ; their harvests 
and their sons were in requisition : not the merchants ; they 
were so stripped, that their race was extinct ; they were known 
only on the grave-stones of Nantz and Lyons ; they were re- 
membered in France, like the mammoth, by their bones. But, 
say the democrats, the people^ the many,, in other words, the 
rabble of the cities, were free : bread Avas issued to them by 
the publick. Yes, but it was the bread of soldiers, for which 
they were enrolled as national guards to uphold the tyranny of 
robbers and usurpers ; and as soon as this very rabble relucted 
at their work, the more desperate cut-throats from Marseilles 
were called for, to shoot them in the streets. 

It is often said, that the monarchy of France was forcibly 
upheld by the army. There is much incorrectness in the 
prevailing notions on this point. Without pausing to consider 
theniv it may be sufficient to say, that the leaders of the revo- 
lution, apprehending that they should have an army against 
them, very early determined that they would have also an 
army on their side. By a simple vote, raising the pay of the 
king's soldiers, they detached the ti'oops from his side to their 
own ; and, stiil further to augment their military force, they 
fenlisted the rabble of all the cities as national guards. Thus 
France was still governed by an army, but this army was itself 
governed by new chiefs. The people were more than ever 
subject to military power. ' 

Now it would be a pleasant task for the democratick de- 
claimers to shew, that martial lavj is liberty ; and as there never 
was a half hovu' since July, 1789, when a man in France had 
any other rights, but such as that law saw fit to spare, they 
ought now to tell us, as they gave no reason at the lime, nvhy 
they roasted oxen on account of the triumphs of I- rench liberty. 

The nature of that precious liberty deserves some further 
consideration. 



EQUALITY 243 



EQUALITY. N°. V. 



THE French are very unjustly accused of having lost their 
liberty : they never had it. The old government was not a 
free one, and the violence that demolished it was not liberty. 
The leaders were, from the first, as much the sovereigns as 
the Bourbon kings. A mob would disperse in an hour Avith- 
out a leader, and that leader has immediately an authority, of 
all despots the most absolute, though the most precarious. To 
destroy the monarchy, the resort was to force, not to the peo- 
ple ; and who, in those times of violence, had any liberty, but 
the possessors of that force ? No liberty was then thought 
more valuable, than that of running away from mob tyranny. 

Accordingly, the standing army, which had been only 
two hundred thousand strong, was suddenly increased to half a 
million. The ruin of trade and manufactories compelled 
scores of thousands to become soldiers for bread. All France 
was soon filled with terrour, pillage, and massacre. It is ab- 
surd, though for a time it was the fashion, to call that nation 
free, which was, at that very period of its supposed emancipa- 
tion, subject to martial law, and bleeding under its lash. The 
rights of a Frenchman were never less, nor was there ever a 
time when he so little dared to resist or even to complain. 

The kings of France, it is true, had a great military force, 
but the new libei'ty-leaders had as much again. They used it, 
avowedly, to strike terrour into those they were pleased to call 
counter-revolutionists ; in other Avoi^ds, to drive into exile 
nearly a million nobles, priests, rich people, and women : eve- 
ry description of persons, whom they hated, feared or Avished 
to plunder, was placed on the proscribed list. All the kings 
of France, from the days of Pharamond and Clovis, down to 
the last of the Bourbon race, did not exercise despotick power 
on so great a scale, nor with such horrid cruelty. If the 
French were slaves under their kings, their masters did not 
try to aggravate the weight of their chains : the people were 
sometimes spared because they were a property ; because 



244 EQUALITY. 

their kings had an interest in their lives, and some in their 
affections, but none in their sufferings. The republican F'rench 
have not whispered their griefs, without hazard of a spy ; they 
have not Ungered in their servile tasks, without bleeding un- 
der the whips of their usurpers. 

Yet this extremity of degradation and wretchedness, has 
been celebrated as a triumph. Americans have been made 
discontented with their liberty, because it was so much less an 
object of desire, a condition so inferiour in distinction to that 
of the French. 

While the kings reigned, they permitted the laws to gov- 
ern, at least, as much as their f ;uiet and security would allow : 
and when they used military force to seize the members of 
the parliament of Paris, and to dettdn them prisoners for their 
opposition to their edicts, the ferment in the nation soon in- 
duced them to set them at liberty. Thus, it appears, that the 
xigours of despotism once had something existing to counter- 
act and to soften them ; but since the revolution, the popular 
passions have been invari^ibiy excited and employed to furnish 
arms to tyrants, and never to snatch tiiem out of their hands ; 
to overtake fugitive wretches, and to invent new torments. 

This, bud as it is, is the natural course of things. Liberty 
is not to be enjoyed, indeed it cannot exist, without the habits 
of just subordination : it consists, not so much in removing all 
restraint from the orderly, as in imposing it on the violent. 
Now the first step in a revolution, is to make these restraints 
appear unjust and debasing, and to induce the multitude to 
throw them off; in other words, to give daggers to ruffians, 
and to lay bare honest men's hearts. By exalting their pas- 
sions to rage and frenzy, and leading them on, before they 
cool, to take bastiles, and overturn altars, and thrones, a mad 
populace are well fitted for an army, but they are spoiled for a 
republick. Having enemies to contend with, and leaders to 
fight for, the contest is managed by force, and the victory 
brings joy only as it secures booty and vengeance. The con- 
quering faction soon divides, and one part arrays its partizans 
in arms against the other ; or, more frequently, by treachery 



EQUALITY. 245 

and surprise cuts off the chiefs of the adverse faction, and 
they reduce it to weakness and slavery. Then more booty, 
more blood, and new triumphs for liberty ! ! 

It is not because there are not malecontents, it is not be- 
cause tyranny has not rendered scores of thousands desper:ite, 
that civil war has not, withovit ceasing, I'avaged that country. 
But the despotism, that continually multiplies wi-etches, care- 
fully disarms them : it so completely engrosses all power to 
itself, as to discourage all resistance. Indeed, the only power 
in the state is that of the sword ; and while the army obeys 
the general, the nation must obey the army. Hence it has 
been, that civil war has not raged. The people were nothing, 
and, of course, no party among them could prepare the force 
to resist the tyrants in Paris. Hence France has appeared to 
be tranquil in its slavery, and has been forced to celebrate 
feasts for the liberty it had not. They have often changed 
their tyrants, but never their tyranny, not even in the mode 
and insti'uments of its operation. An armed force has been 
the only mode from the first, which free governments may 
render harmless, because they may keep it subordinate to the 
civil power : this despotick states cannot do. 

The mock '■'' republican" leaders, as they affect to call 
themselves, but the jacobin chiefs in America, as they are 
known and called, are the close imitators of these French ex- 
amples. They use the same popular cant, and address them- 
selves to the same classes of violent and vicious rabble. Our 
Condorcets and Rolands are already in credit and in power. It 
would not be difficult to shew, that their notions of liberty are 
not much better than those of the French. If Americans 
adopt them, and attempt to administer our orderly and right- 
ful government by the agency of the popular passions, we 
shall lose our liberty at first, and in the very act of making 
the attempt ; next we shall see our tyrants invade every pos- 
session that could tempt their cupidity, and violate every right 
that could obstruct their rage. 

Nothing will better counteract such designs than to con- 
template the effects of their success in the government of 
Buonaparte. Of that in the next number. 



246 EQUALITY. 

EQUALITY. N". VI. 

THE NATURE AND BASIS OF BUONAPARTE'S POWER. 

EVERY democrat more or less firmly believes, that a revo- 
lution is the sure path to liberty ; and, therefore, he believes 
government of little importance to the people, and very often 
the greatest impediment to their rights. Merely because the 
French had begun a revolution, and thrown every thing that 
was government, flat to the ground, they began to rejoice, 
because that nation had, thus^ become the freest nation in the 
world. It is very probable many of the ignorant in France 
really thought so ; it is lamentable, that many of the well inform- 
ed in America fell into a like errour. 

It is essential, therefore, to review the histoiy of that revo- 
lution, at least with so much attention, as to deduce a few 
plain conclusions. Popular discontents naturally lead to a for- 
cible resistance. of government. The very moment the physical 
power of the people is thus employed to resist, the people 
themselves become nothing. They can only destroy ; they 
cannot rule. They cannot act without chiefs ; nor have chiefs, 
and keep rights. They are blind instruments in the hands of am- 
bitious men ; and, of necessity, act merely as they are acted upon. 
Each individual is nothing ; but the chief, having the power 
of a great many to aid him, can overpower, and will destroy, 
any mutinous citizen, who presumes to find fault with his 
general's conduct. Thus a revolution produces a mob. A 
mob is at first an irregular, then a regular army, but in every 
stage of its progress, the mere blind instrument of its leaders. 
The power of an army, of necessity, falls into the hands of one 
man, the general in chief, who is the sole despot and master 
of the state. 

Every thing in France has gone on directly contrary to all 
the silly expectations of the democrats, though most exactly 
in conformity with the laws of man's nature, and the evidence 
of history. If this kind of contemplation could cure Ameri- 
cans of their strange, and, perhaps it will prove, ya to/, propen- 



EQUALITY. 24,7 

sky to revolutionary principles, and induce them, in future, to 
prefer characters fitter to preserve order than to overthrow it, 
then we should grow wise by the direful experience of others. 
We might stop with our Rolands, without proceeding to owr 
Dantons and Robespieres. 

After many convulsions, we behold Buonaparte the undis- 
puted master of France, of new FrancCy whose vast extent, 
whose immense populousness, whose warlike spirit, and arro- 
gance in victory, invest her with the means, as well as the 
claim, like old Rome, to parcel out kingdoms, and to sit in 
judgment upon nations. A nine years war has left those 
nations enfeebled. They are too much afraid of France to 
resist her singly ; and, unhappily for the repose and security 
of mankind, too much afraid of each other to join in self- 
defence. 

A POSITION of things so tempting to ambition would awaken 
it in France, even if it ever slept there. But it never sleeps. 
Great Britain, though not weakened, is wearied and discourag- 
ed by the selfishness and discord of the continental powers, 
and will not resume her arms, unless compelled by absolute 
necessity. 

Russia alone is not afraid of France ; but Russia has views 
on Turkey, which she will not, by any hostile measures, rouse 
France to obstruct. 

In reality, the European states are, by a singular concurrence 
of circumstances, more than ever exposed, at this moment, as 
a prey to the Fi'ench ; and even more exposed to their arts in 
peace, than to their arms in war. There is little doubt that 
the power of the French consul would prove irresistible ; but 
the important doubt exists, is it stable ? 

Buonaparte reigns by military power. There is not, as 
formerly, a body of nobles, an order of priests, a jealous parlia- 
ment of Paris, a system of wise municipal laws, that deserved 
respect, and of provincial customs and claims of separate 
sovereignty, that extorted it from their kings. The new 
monarchy is without any such checks. There is no exterior 
impediment to the power of an army ; its obstacles are to be 



248 EQUALnV. 

sought for within itself. And simple as its machinery seems 
to be, military force requires the management of a skilful 
hand, and it is kept in order, by rightly touching many little 
wheels and springs. 

It is indeed true, that discipline is the ruling principle of 
armies ; but what is discipline more than the fear of the 
general ? While they know they have every thing to suflFer 
from disobedience, and nothing to hope, the troops will obey. 
If, however, a state of things should exist, that admitted of 
much to hope from mutiny, and little to dread, there is nothing 
in the principle of discipline to restrain the soldiers from 
revolt any more than citizens. 

Suppose, for instance, the great lieutenant-generals, especi- 
ally if they command separate armies, distant from the general, 
should conspire to place a new commander at their head ; in 
that case, it is evident, the power of discipline would be turn- 
ed against the general, and converted into an instrument of 
insurrection. Every body knows, that the troops would greatly 
incline to the side of their particular commander. As the 
thirst for rank is the very soul of an army, the great ofhcers 
will be hindered from aspiring at the chief command only by 
the difficulty, and almost impossibility, of attaining it — for as 
to the danger^ men of daring spirits, habituated to think life 
worth little, and honour worth every thing, will not make 
much account of the danger. 

To guard against this mischief, inherent in the very life, 
and bone, and muscle of his power, Buonaparte must watch 
his great officers much, and trust them as little as possible. 
He must guard most vigilantly every avenue, by which a rival 
might enter his ai'my to tamper with it : he must be jealous 
of every great militaiy genius in his camp, and ready to meet 
every unforeseen event : he will prevent their being collected 
in great force in the distant provinces, and under popular 
lieutenant-generals : he will not let the honour of victories fall 
to the share of any comander but himself ; and, for that reason, 
he will hurry to Marengo, that every body may be forced to 
ascribe the event to his superiour talents and fortune. While 



EQUALITY. 249 

he keeps the troops in dread of punishment, if they disobey, 
and the odium of such punishments he will throw on his lieu- 
tenant-generals, he will spare nothing, that taxes or that exac- 
tions without any formality can obtain, to bestow in largesses on 
his soldiers. Thus, he will be the dispenser of all bounties, and 
unite in his favour the sentiments of both fear and affection. 
Nobody will be able to do others so much evil, nor, before a 
nation's wealth is at his disposal, can any rival appear to be so 
willing to do them good, as he. 

It is obvious, however, that this is a system both of jealousy 
and rigour. It is equally clear, that, to reward the soldiers, 
■will be the chief thing ; to spare the people a very subordi- 
nate consideration. 

It will, indeed, for other reasons, be nearly impossible, 
under such a government, greatly to favour the people. The 
military class, holding the chief power, will claim the first 
place, in point of rank and honour. Soldiers would grow weary 
of their condition, if they were despised by the citizens, whom 
they are employed to keep in subjection. Besides, it would 
not be practicable, nor, perhaps, would it be good policy in the 
general, to allow the state of a citizen to be greatly preferable 
to that of a soldier. 

It follows, also, that the inferiour kind of liberty, which 
many arbitrary governments venture to let their subjects enjoy, 
and which, prior to this revolution, all the European states 
seemed desirous to enlarge, will be denied to the French. For 
if they pretend to be free, they would soon corrupt the soldiery 
with their doctrines of equality. Hence, it is, that the liberty 
of the press has been tried in France, and really found to be 
inconsistent with their plan of government. We call it their 
tyratmy, to abridge it ; the fact is, self-preservation is the 
first law of every government ; and the liberty to make Buo- 
naparte odious, and to combine all his enemies into a regular 
body against him, would soon oblige him to draw the sword in 
self-defence. The liberty of the press, under a military govern- 
ment, is, indeed, only the liberty to kindle a civil war, 
32 



250 EQUALITY. 

For the same reason, martial law must be universal : the* 
government will defend itself; and it cannot defend itself, 
unless it every where watches its enemies, and hinders them 
from acting as soon as they begin to stir. Free governments 
may consider many libels and lies as idle words ; many others 
as worthy only of moderate fines ; but there is no safety in per- 
mitting your town-meeting orators to tamper with an army. 
The government must be jealous, and is scarcely permitted to 
be either inagnanimovis or merciful : its fears will make it 
always strict, and often cruel. 

It is not possible, therefore, that the French should enjoy 
one half of the little liberty they had under their kings. Their 
revolution will lessen it throughout Europe. But it is certain, 
that the most rigorous governments are the hardest to main- 
tain in tranquillity. Trivial risings of the people ai'e not to 
be expected : the certainty, that any small insurgent force 
would be instantly crushed by the great force of the army, 
will prevent any risings, but such as are serious struggles for 
empire, and these are to be expected. 

A GREAT commander, with a hundred thousand men to se- 
cond his designs, is crowned with success. The decision is made 
by the comparison of hostile forces, and the conqueror, having 
the greater force, claims the admiration of his countrymen and 
despotick authority over them. He obtains it. But in peace 
he has fewer to aid his designs, and more to obstruct them. 
Those whom he gratifies will not be grateful ; those whom he 
denies will be vindictive. Extravagant hopes are formed, and 
even great success in a peaceful administration will not be 
splendid. Few will admii'e ; many will repine and be disap- 
pointed. 

The circumstance, that his claim to reign is merely per- 
sonal, will ensure disturbances. Tranquillity will not be expect- 
ed to last longer than his life, and that expectation will abridge 
it. His indisposition, his old age, his mistakes, and his disas- 
ters, Avill all engender those forebodings of change, that will 
hasten changes. His ambitious lieutenants will aspire to his 
place, and will cabal in the army to gain a party to be ready 



EQUALITY. 251 

to salute them emperours, as soon as he is dead, or has be- 
come odious. 

Another consequence worth remark, is, that these changes 
have no tendency to establish liberty. A new struggle, like 
the old one, must be by violence, which can only give the 
sceptre to the most violent. The leaders will aim only at the 
jiQiver to reign^ ami it will not be their wish to lessen that 
power, which they hope to gain as a prize. The supreme 
power would not tempt them to such efforts, if it was to be 
made cheap and vile in their eyes, by bestowing it on the des- 
pised rabble of the cities and the common soldiery. These 
men are unfit for liberty ; and, if they had it gained for them, 
would give it away to a demagogue, who would have, in six 
weeks, anotlier army, and a new despotism, as hard to bear 
and to overturn as that which they had subverted. Nor could 
the leaders establish liberty if they tried : the supreme power 
being military, the contest can only determine what general 
shall hold it. A military government, in fact, though often 
changing its chief, is capable of very long duration. Rome, 
Turkey, and Algiers, are examples : France may prove another. 

Thus the progress of mob equality is im^ariably to despot- 
ism, and to a military despotism, which, by often changing its 
head, embitters every one of the million of its curses, but 
which cannot change its nature. It renders liberty hopeless* 
And almost undesirable to its victims. 



C 252 1 

•' HISTORY IS PHILOSOPHY TEACHING BY EXAMPLE." 

First fmbUs/iei! in tlie Palladium, February, 1802. 

xTL MONG states and nations the law of the powerful is des- 
potism. Yet there are, perhaps, of more than two hundred 
thousand heads of families in New-England, ten or twenty 
thousand, who sincerely believe, that the power of France is 
favourable to general liberty. The opinion is shallow, but a 
great many hundreds of the persons who entertain it are no 
fools. The errour, gross as it is, lies in want of thought, and 
want of information. 

A NATION, which has made almost eveiy sacrifice for its 
ambition to rule other nations, will not, now it is victorious, be 
very modest in requiring from them like sacrifices. France 
affects to be the imitator of ancient Rome : never was there 
a more abominable original, or a more servile copy. 

There was almost no evil that Rome did not inflict, scarcely 
any humiliation that she did not impose on her allies. The 
people of Latium were denominated her confederates^ and en- 
titled to what was called, as a kind of eminence in slavery, the 
jus Latinum ; the other states claimed only the Jus Itnlicum. 
These were degrees in slavery. F'or when the Latins insisted, 
as well they might, that they would not follow the Romans in 
th^r wars, their refusal was called treason ; a war ensued, and 
the Latins yielded on the terms of having the excellent pri- 
vilege of the jus Latinum. After Latium was thus humbled, 
Home extended her sway over the twelve states of Etruria. 
Those nearest to her, and the most afraid of her power, were 
tempted by all the offers of citizenship that tyranny could hold 
forth ; and they were offered with effect : they were neutral. 
Etruria did not combine to resist Rome, till Rome was not to 
be resisted. Samnium was next attacked. Seventy years of 
war, and more than twenty triumphs, were necessary to sub- 
due the Samnites, who were as brave and as warlike as the Ro- 
mans, but not half so well united. The Romans never failed 



HISTORY IS PHILOSOPHY. 253 

to use one set of slaves to conquer another. The Campanians 
■were called allies, and, under that name, entitled to fight the 
Samnites ; and, during a century of the most vigorous oppres- 
sion, they were incessantly reproached with their ingratitude 
to the Romans, because they wmced a little, when their chtmis 
galled to their marrow. The Samnites were reduced ; and 
then Pyrrhus came. The people of Tarentum, who called 
him over, had little power, and his own state had none, for a 
distant expedition. He failed. The Carthaginians next dis- 
puted the dominion of Sicily with the Romans. They loved 
money better than glory ; and the Romans sought money by 
winning glory. The men of the sword prevailed in combat 
against the shopkeepers. 

Two extraordinary men raised up Carthage from the dust. 
Hamilcar, a great man, reduced Spain, where he was cut off in 
early life : Hannibal, his son, a greater man, perhaps the greatest 
of men, trained the armies and led them into Italy against the 
Romans. Much has been said, and more might be said, on 
this subject. Hannibal never met with his equal, and the rea- 
son why he did not finally conquer was, that the mstitutions of 
Carthage were inferiour to those of Rome. The policy of Car- 
thage was to make money ; that of Rome to make conquests. 
In consequence of this defect, Carthage lost both money and 
conquests ; while Rome accumulated both. Carthage stood 
in fear of her allies ; the allies of Rome were afraid of her. 
The conquests of Rome were old and well consolidated \yith 
her empire ; those of Cai'thage recent and still turbulent. 
Accordingly, Spain, as soon as Hannibal left it, blazed out 
with wars, that made her the slave of Rome. Italy was more 
advanced in slavery, and felt an emulation among her states in 
their obedience to their mistress. She used her own allies as 
slaves, and the subjects of Carthage as allies. 

Rome courted the great ; Hannibal the populace. This was 
one cause of the ardour and perseverance of the allies in the 
service of Rome, who courted the oligarchy of every state to 
assist in oppressing it. Another impediment to Hannibal's 
success, was in the government of Carthage. It was popular, 



254 HISTORY IS PHILOSOPHY. 

and, therefore, a prey to faction, Hanno prevented the sup- 
plies being sent to Hannibal, that would have given him the 
superiority. The jacobins of Carthage destroyed her indepen- 
dence : they hated their rivals more than they loved their 
country. 

The Romans dissembled their anger against Philip, king of 
Macedon, as long as they had the Carthaginians to deal with. 
When Carthage was subdued, they picked a quarrel with 
Philip. Even then they allied themselves with the iEtolians, 
the Virginians of ancient Greece, and used them as tools to 
subdue Philip. Philip was beaten at Cynocephale, and the 
,^tolians Svere greatly disappointed on the peace that ensued. 
For they expected that Rome would allow them to domineer 
as despots in .Greece ; but Rome very discreetly chose to do- 
mineer herself. 

Indeed, ancient history has a great deal to say to America ; 
but America will not hear it. 

The Jitolians, disappointed in their ambition, then said a 
great many things that were true ; but they said all from spite, 
and were not regarded. Flamininus, the conqueror of Philip, 
proclaimed, at the Isthmian games, liberty to the states of 
Greece ; that is to say, anarchy ; that all should be weak, and 
Rome stronger than all. 

He, and the ten ambassadours, told the Roman senate, that, 
unless Lacedaemon were reduced, Nabis, the king of that state, 
would be lord of all Greece ; and yet he told the assembled 
states of Greece, at Corinth, that it was wholly their affair and 
nothing to the Rojuans. The duplicity and profligacy of this 
transaction are exhibited even by Livy, who is a very Roman 
in his history. 

By dividing, the Romans conqviered. Weak confederacies 
are so many strong factions and crazy governments. 

These old examples shew what France has already done iu 
Europe, where she has destroyed every one of its republicks ; 
and what she will do, if she and her allies, the jacobins, can, 
in America. They have begun their work — they have made 
progress. ' 



C 255 3 

BALANCE OF EUROPE. 

First published in the Palladium, March, 1S02. 

J WO hundred and eighty years ago, Francis I. king of 
France, and Charles V. emperour of Germany, king of Spain, 
possessor of the dominions of the house of Austi'ia in Ger- 
many, Italy, and the Low Countries, began the contests of 
ambition, which have since regulated the balance of Europe. 

Russia and Prussia were then nothing ; England was not 
much, for we are to deduct from its present power Scotland, 
which was hostile, Ireland, little better civilized than the six 
nations, and the American colonies and India settlements, 
neither of which were then begun. England then had the 
weight of a feather, but of a feather that could turn the scale 
Henry VIII. had not always the good sense, to throw his 
weight into the right scale : he acted from passion, rather 
than from policy. France was greatly overmatched, and 
should have had his aid. Afterwards the troubles in France 
reduced that country to a state of insignificance, and Philip 
II, king of Spain, remained the preponderant power of 
Europe. After the middle of the seventeenth century, Louis 
XIV advanced to the front rank, as the leader of the Euro- 
pean republick. Charles II. of England loved his pleasures 
too much, and trusted his parliament too little, to dispute that 
rank with him. Accordingly, Louis made great conquests, 
and annexed Alsace, Lorrain, and a part of the Low Countries 
to his vast monarchy. 

At that time, there were only three powers in the north of 
Europe, Denmark, Sweden, and Poland. Sweden, especially, 
was highly military, and the size of her army made amends 
for the scantiness of her wealth and people. Russia was not 
born, and Prussia was not then gathered as a nation. Eng- 
land, Holland, and Austria formed a balance in the beginning 
of the eighteenth century for the immense power of France. 



'256 BxVLANCE OF POWER. 

Spain was then nothing ; for an Austrian and a Bourbon prince 
were competitors for its crown. 

Something like a balance was, however, actually main- 
tained : for at all times, the ambition to establish a universal 
monarchy existed ; but, by great good fortune, sufficient obsta- 
cles to its accomplishment also existed. These were found in 
the combination of the weaker powers. 

One reason for the success for this combination, may be as- 
cribed to the inferiour military establishments of the several 
European states, at that period. A great power found it very 
difficult to maintain a great army ; and a small state Avith a 
large army, and, especially, aided by a confederacy with other 
weak states, could effectually resist a great conqueror. 

Hence, we may observe the great change in the face of 
Europe within a century. Armies are large, and more in pro- 
portion to the size of the several states. New combinations of 
politicks are formed, in consequence of the gradual and expe- 
rienced insignificance of the weak states. New powers, as 
Russia and Prussia, have arisen ; and the independence of all 
requires, that new principles should be adopted to support the 
balance, without which one nation will be the tyrant, and the 
rest slaves. 

By the treaty of Westphalia, in 1648, Germany was con- 
demned to endless anarchy. Its state sovereignties were 
scarcely to be counted or controlled. 

Whatever is divided, is weakened ; and, in politicks, 
whatever is weakened, is exposed as a prey. Accordingly, in 
every war, Germany furnished soldiers for France, and her 
own sons were employed to cut one another's throats. 

Holland had some patriotism, one hundred years ago : 
faction has since extinguished it ; and, instead of its being 
the enemy, it proved in 1794, the auxiliary -of French domi- 
nation. 

In weak states, fear rules : temporary expedients are 
sought, and the rulers seldom fail in the end to act for their 
destroyers, because they are afraid to act against them. Hence 
it is, that the weak states of Europe have lately proved more 



BALANCE OF POWER. 257- 

than passive to France : they have made a merit of devoting 
themselves to destruction. 

In the present position of Eui'ope, it is obvious, that France 
domineers. She has gained positively^ by adding territory to 
her dominions equal in size, wealth, and people to a second- 
rate kingdom ; she has gained relatively., by removing Austria 
to a distance, and by •weakening that ancient rival to such a 
degree, as to secure her inaction for an age. 

Prussia has gained prodigiously by the partition of Poland. 
It was natui'al to think, that Pi'ussia had become powerful 
enough to disregard France ; but it has unexpectedly happen- 
ed, that Prussia has gained power without gaining entire inde- 
pendence. Austria is weaker ; but France is stronger than 
ever. Besides, Russia is, more than ever, the preponderating 
power of the North. Of course it is, that Prussia still leans 
upon France, is more than ever afraid to provoke her dis- 
pleasure, and, perhaps, more than ever really interested in her 
alliance, to secure herself against Russia. 

France, then, finds no counterpoise in Prussia. Sweden 
and Denmark are no longer of any consequence. Their ar- 
mies no longer bear any proportion to their extent of territory, 
and other powers have augmented their foi'ces in proportion to 
their number of subjects. Denmark and Sweden have, of 
com'se, declined, both positively and relatively. Poland is an- 
nihilated as an independent power. Prussia, instead of bal- 
ancmg the power of France, is her ally, nearly as Latium was 
the ally of Rome. 

Russia is a colossus, but, with one foot on the Frozen 
ocean, and the other on the Black sea, she cannot reach her 
antagonist in the south of Europe. 

No foe is near enough, or powerful enough to save Europe 
from subjection, but Great Britain. Every independent power 
has, therefore, a manifest interest in the sufficiency of the 
British force to balance that of France. 

It will be objected, that Britain has vastly grown in her na- 
val strength ; that if Fi-ance domineers on the land, Great 
Britain is the despot of the ocean. Why, therefore, it will be 
33 



258 BALANCE OP POWER. 

asked by the democrats, shall we view the aggrandizement of 
France with terrour, when her enemy is no less formidable, 
and much more in our way, sometimes as a competitor, often 
as a tyrant ? 

The answer is, that the modern balance of power in Europe 
is only of the great powers : the minor powers are no more. 
Switzerland, the Italian princes and states, Holland, even 
Spain, and the Baltick states, excepting Russia, are annihila- 
ted. Either there can be no balance, or it must be formed 
by the counterpoise Q>i great states. When, therefore, France 
has grown to such a giant size, no dwarf can be her antago- 
nist. The prodigious increase of the British navy is some 
counterpoise, but, we fear, a very insufficient one, for the tre- 
mendous means and still more formidable spirit of France. 

It is allowed, that the British navy, considered in an ab- 
stract point, is too large and too superiovu' to that of all other 
nations, especially of our own. But naval power, it may be 
said, is rather less fitted for the purposes of national aggran- 
dizement, than any other. It is very likely to provoke ene- 
mies, and not well adapted to subdue them. It is a glittering- 
defensive armour. And, surely, all independent nations ought 
to rejoice, that Great Britain wears it. Great as its energy is, 
it is not too greut to defend her from her adversary. If it be 
an evil, for that na\y to be so great, it is clearly a less evil, 
than for the French power to be freed from its resistance. 
Remove that resistance, and France would rule the civilized 
world. 

Turkey was formerly a great power, and a check on Aus- 
tria and Russia. But as France finds Turkey too weak for 
that purpose ; as she finds, that the fall of her old ally is not . 
to be prevented, her policy will be to profit by her fall. 

We have seen the eagerness of Buonaparte to possess 
himself of Egypt ; and, had it not been for sir Sidney Smith, 
perhaps he would have conquered Syria, and marched to Con- 
stantinople. As long as France remains inferiour at sea, she 
will desire to use the Turkish dominions, as a station to con- 



BALANCE OF POWER. 259 

fine the Russians to the Black sea, and to collect the troops 
and resources to annoy the English empire in India. France, 
moreover, will desire to seize a part of Turkey, at least Candia, 
because, if she does not, Russia will. Turkey cannot be long 
hindered from fallmg, and cannot fall, Avithout producing a 
scramble for her spoils. 

It is hence, on the review of Eui'opean affairs, obvious to 
remark, that all the states have become military in some pro- 
portion to their wealth and populousness. Hence, the weak 
states, that were of consequence one hundred years ago, have 
sunk into insignificance, since the great powers have armed 
and taken their natural superiority. Hence, also, it is apparent, 
that Jiotliing but villitarij strength is any security for national 
indejiendence ; as all the weak states have become abject, weak, 
and despised. It is, also, evident, that the great powers have 
groAvn in strength, and that France has outgrown them all. 
Great Britain has, indeed, increased in commerce and wealth ; 
and France has declined in both ; but France has despised all 
occupation but that of the sword : she has destroyed her artisans 
and multijdied her soldiers. This has ensured her poverty, and 
her conquests : it has filled her army, and emptied her work- 
shops. England, on the contrary, has found her prosperity an 
impediment to her warlike operations. A man's labour is worth 
much in England, and it is expensive to use it in the field of 
war ; it is of use to France only in that field. 

It takes England, therefore, a long period to put on her 
armour ; and it is worn with infinite expense. But, after it is 
adjusted to her limbs, she is capable of vast energy, because 
she gradually adopts a war system, and accommodates her 
industry to her situation. The war, at length, creates its own 
resources ; and industry, that is ever found, when pressed by 
necessity, capable of working miracles, is sure to display them 
in furnishing the resources. Accordingly, we conclude, that 
the peace, by disarming England, exposes her to a danger and 
disadvantage infinitely beyond what she had to apprehend from 
the continuance of the war. 



260 BALANCE OF POWER. 

France experiences no such disadvantage. She will not 
let her troops be idle. If Toussaint should not find employ- 
ment for them, she will send them to Louisiana : she will find 
work or make it. 

But England has increased too in military strength and 
spirit. Our democrats are silly enough to think that nation 
subject to a standing army ; the truth is, a militia, an effective 
militia of the real people, constitutes the force of Great Britain: 
it is the nation that holds the sword. 

Add to this, the vast increase of the British power in India. 
On the whole, we may hope, that Great Britain will be able 
to maintain the post of glory and danger, in which she is 
placed. She cannot defend herself, without making other na- 
tions secure ; nor is it possible, that her fall should happen, 
without infinite peril, perhaps utter ruin, to the independence 
of all other powers. France was, formerly, emulous of com- 
mercial greatness ; but the spirit, that Colbert awakened, and 
that seemed to balance the spirit of chivalry of the nation, is 
apparently quenched. France is more military and less com- 
mercial, than ever she was before ; England, on the contrary, 
is more than ever commercial. The basis of her naval su- 
periority is widened. Hence we may infer, that Britain will 
continue to beat France at sea. 

This review, also, senses to exhibit, in a proper light, the 
policy, if it be policy^ of disarming the United States at a time 
of unprecedented danger. While all Europe is sliding from 
its old foundations ; while France is pouring myriads of black, 
white, and ring-streaked banditti into St. Domingo, and is 
ready to vomit them on our shores, we are boasfful/i/.consign- 
ing our little army to nothing, and our navy to the worms. 

It is in peace only that armies can be trained ; it is in peace 
only that navies can be prepared, and a very long preparation 
is requisite. We have abolished revenue enough, t/iat no fioor 
inanfelty the collection of which sent no son of laborious poverty 
sufifierless to bed, to build a fleet sufficient for our protection. 
Coaches, loaf sugar, and whiskey, are to ^ofree-, and our com- 
merce to wear shackles .' Nothino: is easier than for the United 



BALANCE or POWER. 261 

States to provide thirty ships of the line and sixty frigates. 
Such a force would protect our rights ; and for want of it, 
France alone has plundered us of more than such a fleet would 
have cost to build, and equip, and maintain during the late war. 

It is childish prattle, to inquire, what need have we of force ? 
A nation that neglects its naval and military power, will not 
preserve its independence : weakness is subjugation. Si x»j? 
fiacem, para beltinti, is a maxim of good sense, but not of the 
democrats. To be without force or treasure, used to be deemed 
the course for a government to be without consideration ; but, 
of late, it is deemed to be, though an evil, yet a less evil than 
another, that those, who are dismantling our government, like 
an old ship, that is to be broken up for the old iron, should be 
without popularity. 

How long shall men, whose views are merely party or per- 
sonal, whose foresight scarcely reaches a week forward, be 
encouraged by our suffrages to work for our undoing I A system 
so selfish and so mean, that begins and ends Avith the indivi- 
dual interests of those who act for us, is too gross to be mis- 
understood, and too mischievous long to be tolerated. It ap- 
pears probable, that the people will clearly discern how they 
ought to vote, two years before they will have the opportunity. 
Federal truth has begun its awful progress, and it will prevail: 
its sun has set to rise again. 



C 262 ] 

POLITICAL REVIEW. 

I N°. I. 

Knt puhlishcd in the PaHailium, October, 1802. 

JL H E wardf arms is at an end ; the war of the custom-house 
is commenced between France and England. More than ever 
their policy relates to the concerns of other powers ; and the 
consequences of their competition will shew, that the same act, 
which has given peace to themselves, has scattered the seeds 
of discord among their neighbours. To lessen the commerce 
of England, will lessen her power. Buonaparte will, therefore, 
try all the means that his policy can employ, to make his rival 
defenceless, before he forces her to be hostile. 

It is not clear, that the people of England were willing any 
longer to prosecute the war ; but it is now vmquestionably clear, 
that it was their great ultimate interest to pursue it. Peace 
has brought Avith it no new resources ; it has dried up those 
which spring up with a state of war : for war makes many of 
its own means. Peace divides the commerce, that war gave 
to her entire : her enemies, who lately did not own a ship, are 
now England's competitors. Their business was to destroy ; 
now it is to produce and to fabricate. They want less ; they 
supply more. They diminish her means ; and they recruit 
their own. England looks at the peace with mingled shame 
and dread ; shame, because she is already degraded in the eyes 
of strangers, if not in her own ; with dread, for France has 
gained new power, and shews her old ambition. 

It is childish to say, that Mr. Pitt ought to have proceeded 
with the war, if he understood the position of things. Ho 
imderstood it ; but it is alleged, and, perhaps, it is true, that 
the British nation preferred present ease, which they expected, 
and have failed of realizing, by peace, to the glory, the burdens 
and the distant ultimate security of war. / We Americans 
choose to say, and we are vain-glorious enough to believe, that 



POLITICAL REVIEW. 263 

the people are not counted for any thing any where, except in 
America. The ti'uth is, the voice of the nation, when it con- 
veys its wisdom or its deliberate inistakes, is more sure to pene- 
trate audibly, and with effect, the recesses of St. James's, than 
those of Monticello. The British nation was weaiy of the war, 
and, therefore, it was ended. Peace will present an aspect of 
danger, which its courage will not be summoned to face. 
The only question is, whether, on viewing its formidable con- 
sequences, its policy will be able to surmount or elude them, 
A nice problem it is. America is infinitely interested in its 
favourable solution. 

When we behold France with a power so vast, as to excite 
and enable her to undertake almost every thing, and a spirit 
still more romantick and vast, to prompt her to achieve impos- 
sibilities, we are led to think of a new Roman empire, under 
which the civilized world is first to bleed, and then to sweat in 
chains. We again see Rome, after the first Punick war ; and, 
alas"! we see Europe without a Hannibal, unless we look for 
him in England's Nelson or Smith. The little states are 
nothing ; they are slaves, paid by titles to freedom for hewing 
wood and drawing water. The king of Prussia, though power- 
ful, is no Philip ; he is only an Attains or Eumenes, under 
France. Spain has nothing of an independent monarchy, but 
the name. As to Holland, Switzerland, and the Cisalpine or 
Italian republicks, they are republicks during pleasure ; they 
are sovereign, as Deiotarus, or Ariarathes, or Prusias were, to 
tame them for subjection. They are new recruits for the 
French republick, committed first to the drill-serjeant, before 
they are turned into the ranks. They will be cudgelled, if they 
prove refractory. They will be made to obey, like slaves, and 
yet to say and to swear, on occasion, that they are sovereign 
and independent, as may best suit the ambitious policy of 
France. Old Rome was too cautious and too much in earnest 
in her plan, to make a conquered people her subjects at once. 
She gave them a king, or made a pretty, little, snug indefien- 
dent i-epublick for them, till every man was dead and gone, 
who was born and educated in independence : her bitter drugs 



264 POLITICAL KEVIEW. 

■were all given in honey. So it is with France. Europe has 
no longer any minor powers ; they are swallowed up by France. 
Her establishment in Louisiana, which, though certain, is. 
delayed only to choose the moment, when it will be most fatal 
to us, will convince even America, that distance is no protec- 
tion : the plagues of Egypt will be m our bosoms, and in our 
porridge-pots. Our pity or our folly has made us weep or 
wonder at the events of Europe. We have had our spasms, 
when we saw distress and disease abroad ; we are doomed by 
fate to scratch with a mortal leprosy of our own : Gehazi, by 
accepting bribes, is smitten with Naaman's pestilence. Our 
government has little force, and, since the deplorable fourth 
of March, 1801, less than ever, to defend Kentucky and Ten- 
nessee from the arms of France : soon or late they will fall vic- 
tims to their arts. In spirit and policy we are Dutchmen : 
Ave are to lose our honour and our safety ; and the economical 
statesmen, whom the wrath of heaven has placed at our head, 
will inquire what ai'e they worth in shillings. Every penny of 
their folly will cost a pound. 

But, say Job's comforters, France is a republick, and, of 
course, a sister refmblick will not only find friendship, but secu- 
rity, in the aggrandizement of France. Miserable comforters 
are all these 1 Before this boasted revolution, Europe had many 
free republicks. Alas ! they are no more. France, proclaim- 
ing war against palaces, has waged it against commonwealths. 
Switzerland, Holland, Geneva, Venice, Lucca, Genoa are gone, 
and the wretched Batavian, Helvetian, and Italian republicks, 
are but the famt images, the spectres, that haunt the sepulchres, 
where they rot. So far has France been from paying exclu- 
sive regard to republicks, that she has considered them, not 
as associates, but as victims. Venice she sold to the emperour. 
Holland she taxed openly for her own wants, till she drove 
her rich men into banishment. She " ransomed Dutch liberty," 
with a vengeance, " from the hands of the opulent :" — so far 
she took counsel from the Worcester Farnier ; or he from her 
admired example. From Switzerland she drained her youth 
to be food for gun-powder. This is not all. But the king of 



POLITICAL REVIEW, 265 

Etruria is tricked out in purple robes, like a playhouse 
monarch, to tread the stage in mock dignity. The proud 
Spaniard finds for France gold and dollars, and for that proof 
of " civism" he is treated as headservant in Buonaparte's 
kitchen. So that to favour kings, and to depress, plunder, and 
destroy republicks, has been the sure and experienced conse- 
quence of French domination. 

Let the ignorant hirelings of France prattle about the cause 
©t liberty. Let them repeat the second million of times the 
silly lie, that we triumph with France. Her triumphs are 
terrible. A voice seems to issue from the tombs of the fallen 
republicks for our warning. Our citizens are warned, though 
our government is not ; and they would be armed, if France or 
fate did not ordain, that we should be disarmed and defenceless. 



POLITICAL REVIEW. X°. II. 

ONE of the consequences of the progress of ancient Rome 
to empire was, to lower the spirit of all other nations, while 
she raised her own. Already Buonaparte talks in the tone of 
a master ; and his rivals and enemies, like slaves. The em- 
perour of Germany hiis congratulated him in form, because he 
has elected himself president of the Italian republick. The 
grand Turk has renewed his old treaties with the man, whose 
expedition to Egypt, in a time of profound peace, shewed his 
absolute contempt of their obligation. Russia smothers her 
anger on account of Malta and Corfu. All Europe is striving 
to make its hypocrisy conceal its terrour. 

After every former war, the question in eveiy state was, 
how to arrange its concerns so as best to profit by the mutual 
dread, in which every power stood of its neighbour. Since 
the treaty of Amiens, the little powers are extinct, and the 
only concern is, how to find defence against France : tliere is 
but one leviathan, and half a score of small fish. 

But, as France emulates old Rome, it is material to note 
the points of difference and resemblance. 
.34 



266 POLITICAL REVIEW. 

Rome achieved her concjuests, vv^hile she was republican; 
France is now imfierial, precisely in the state, in which Rome 
became pacifick and bec;an to feel decline. 

France is as corrupt, and has had as much to corrupt her, 
as Rome had, after the hori'ours of her civil wars. Yet it is 
probable Buonaparte is less of a politician and more of a war- 
riour, than Augustus, the second Roman Cesar. The Roman, 
too, had no foe near him. Parthia lay beyond the Euphrates ; 
and a desart of parching sand, without fountains of water, 
divided the two great empires of Rome and Parthia from each 
other. Wars, when they were waged, were, therefore, pro- 
duced by vain-glory, and very little interested the passions of 
the people of either of these states. In order to make the 
comparison fairly, we must suppose that Cornelius Sylla, in- 
stead of abdicating the dictatorship, remained at the head of 
the Roman armies, the Buonaparte of Rome. Even then, we 
shall scarcely find a formidable enemy left. Gaul and Britain 
were barbarous ; Carthage, Greece, Macedonia, and the Syri- 
an monarchy under Antiochus, were reduced to subjection. 
Whereas the modern Sylla finds in England, Austria, and 
Russia, a Hannibal, a Philip, and a Mithridates, 

France, then, as military as Rome Avas under the Cesars, 
finds, in these obstacles, infinitely greater incentives to her 
ambition than they did. She has enemies near, and in force. 
Of necessary consequence, her system will not be pacifick : 
to make the power of her enemies less, will be the same thing 
as to make her own greater. The power of England, depend- 
ing on her navy, will necessarily engage her active hostility. 
She will try the utmost efforts of her policy and " diploufiatick 
skill," to detach the United States from being customers of 
Great Britain ; and will, if possible, unite them to herself, 
as auxiliaries to her scheme of aggrandizement. We have 
some thousands of jacobins wicked enough, and some tens of 
thousands of democrats weak enough, to second her plan. 
They are ready to make the United States the tool of France, 
and, in that illustrious character, to revive the famous resolu- 
tions of Mr. Madison, and the report of Mr. Jefferson on tlie 



POLITICAL REVIEW. 267 

privileges and restrictions of our commerce with foreign na- 
tions, so as to render congress the instrument of their wai* 
upon Sheffield, Manchester, and Birmingham, in England. 
Mr. Madison, who knew a great deal less than nothing at all 
of his subject, fancied that we could starve these manufactur- 
ers ; and because we co7tld^ he humanely and wisely insisted, 
that we ought to starve tb.cm ; and, therefore, that we ought to 
frame regulations, by which our consumers and the English 
manufacturers would both suffer, and the French would gain. 
All this, so worthy of a Frenchman, Avas to be done to restore 
to trade its liberty : it was to suffer force., in order to be free. 
It was to be compelled to do, as it ought to be disposed, but 
was not disposed to do. Not one merchant supported this 
scheme ; but it wDl be I'evived. 

France will soon have Louisiana. A formal treaty has V 
already given it to her, and all our papers have pablished its 
contents. She only waits for a more convenient season : she 
waits to conquer the islands. She waits to let the true Ameri- 
cans recover from their fears, and have her partisans profit by 
their superiority in our counsels. She will depend on our 
fears, to do all the mischief she meditates against Great Bri- 
tain, as a peace-offering, to obtain the delay of that which she 
meditates against us ; but she will not delay it long, even 
though we should commence a war of acts of congress against 
British ships and manufactures. 

Louisiana will produce as much cotton, as Great Britain 
imports ; Georgia already yields two thirds of that amount. 
France will be in a hurry to send her legions to settle these 
fertile lands, vast enough in extent for an empire. She will 
be able to block up the Mississippi. She will be able to make 
terms for our degradation. She will menace our frontier's, 
Avhile her faction in our bosom will enfeeble the centre. In a 
military and financial view, we shall become weaker than 
ever, iit the very moment when Ave shall more than ever have 
need of force. 

Our Avealth, supposed by the democratick babblers to be 
the incentive to war, is the security for our tameness. To 



268 POLITICAL REVIEW. 

get, and to keep, and to enjoy, is the spirit of our nation ; but 
to keep with honour and security, is no part of common arith- 
nietick. The world, France excepted, is now peopled with 
Dutchmen. England is made tame by her banking and fund- 
ed wealth : she is bound in golden chains. France -intends to 
take them ofT^ and to put on chains of iron. Compared with 
England, France is now what her own Parisian rabble was in 
1790, prone to any change, because there is much wealth to 
be gained, none to be hazarded. Ovu" half-witted democrats 
insist, that great wealth produces war. So far is this from 
being true, that the pursuit and the possession of wealth make 
a nation not less servile than sordid, willing to take kicks for 
pay, and to prefer gain to honour and security. France has 
the spirit of a camp ; the peace of Amiens shews, that Eng- 
land has that of a counting-house. 



POLITICAL REVIEW. N°. III. 

CORRECT views of European politicks lead to sound re- 
sults of the publick judgment on our own. We have been 
long, too long, amused with the democratick prattle about the 
love of peace, and the love of our fellow-men, and the millen- 
nium, that would begin as soon as all kings were murdered, 
and all the citizen kings were fairly crammed together, forty 
deep, into a Philadelphia state-house-yard, or a Paris field of 
Mars, oi" a Londfjn ('openhagen-house, to exercise, as a tri- 
umphant mob, their imprescriptible and more than royal rights 
and functions. On the contrary, instead of perpetual peace 
annong nations, we see a state of things, which renders all 
hope of any long peace ridiculously chimerical. Two mighty 
champions stand observing each other ; and, though they have 
svispcnded the combat, they have not laid aside their arms : 
they are furbishing them up, expecting to renew it. England 
is in dread for her existence ; France is full of impatience to 
effect the consummation of her ambition. Peace will afford 
neither to the one nor tlie other an hour of relaxation or repose. 



POLITICAL REVIF.W. 269 

It will turn no swords into plough-shares ; but it is an awful 
interval of clanger and terrour, which requires, that England, 
at least, should beat her plough-shares into swords. Including 
her militia, her land forces will exceed in the peace establish- 
ment, as it is called, the number she had on foot at the end of 
the American war. A peace, that requires more soldiers than 
such a war, is not the beginning of the expected millennium. 

How ardent France is to extend her domination, no man of 
the least sense and observation can need to be told. She has 
not lost a minute to recover St. Domingo, nor to prepare a 
great army to take possession of Louisiana, as soon as it 
will best answer her purpose. Since the preliminaries of 
peace were signed on the first of October, 1801, Buonaparte 
has appointed himself president of the Italian republick, in 
other, but not plainer, words, king of Italy. She has a treaty 
with Portugal, which brings her near enough to the mouth of 
the great river Amazon, to secure at a future day, her com- 
mand of the vast territory, bigger than all France, lying on that 
river. She has prohibited all importation of English manufac- 
tures ; and has obliged her viceroy, the king of Spain, and her 
subjects in Holland, to do the like. 

With these decisive marks of rooted hostility, with these 
undisguised preparations of the means to renew the contest, 
whenever it can be done with the best prospect of subverting 
the government and independence of Great Britain, with all 
the parade of equipping new navies in France, and her Spanish 
and Dutch provinces, and with her legion of honour, the' con- 
suls, pretorian guards, and with the draft of twice sixty thou- 
sand men, to fill up the ranks of her armies, who will doubt, 
that she is intent on the schemes of her ambition, and will go 
to war on the first favourable occasion for their accomplish- 
ment ? 

Whether Great Britain is competent to defend herself 
against a force so vast, and a spirit of hostility so rancorous 
and ardent, is a question of infinite importance to the whole 
civilized world, and, perhaps, of as much to the United Slates, 
as to any nation in it. 



270 POLTTICAL REVIEW. 

The examination of this subject deserves the best pens. We 
invite men of ability to favour us with such uuthenlick state- 
ments of the commerce, revenue, and forces of the British 
empire and of France, as vi^ill assist us to make conjectures. 
The world is threatened with subjection to French military- 
despotism. Unless Great Britain can defend herself, we are 
to look for such another age of iron, as passed in the twelfth 
centuiy, when soldiers were ruffians, and all that were not sol- 
diers were slaves. 

In this scene it is some consolation to perceive, that Britain, 
at length, discerns her danger. The popularity of the peace 
is grecttly imprdied ; and the aggrandizement of France, since 
the preliminaries, has awakened the pride and the fears of 
the nation. 

British wealth, commerce, and naval force have greatly 
increased since the peace of 1783. Her manufactures export- 
ed at that period were about 7iine million and a half of pounds 
sterling ; at the peace of 1801, tiventy four millions. Her whole 
exports, in 17 8 o, fourteen millions ; in \^0\^ thirty Jive millions. 
In 1783, her merchant shipping less than six hundred thousand 
tons; in X^OX^Jifceen hwidred thoutsand. In 1783, her armed 
ships of all sorts in commission, less than four hundred ; in 
1801, seven hundred. 

As this great increase, however, is owing, in a great mea- 
sure to the war, the question retui'ns, will Great Bi-itain be 
able to kceji this superiority over France and her dependencies ? 
During the Avar, the British navy destroyed the commerce 
and navigation of her enemies. This forced them to make use 
of American ships and capital to do that for them, which Great 
Britain would not permit them to do for themselves. Hence, 
the vast profits of American ships and merchants ; and hence, 
too, the absurd clamour of the democrats, who cursed Great 
Britain, as the tyrant of the seas, because she forced our rivals 
to become our cuslorjiers. The boasted principle oifree shifis^ 
free goods^ would deprive the United States of a great part of 
the fair profits of their neutrality. Belligerent nations could, 
in that case, transact their own affairs, and neutrals Avould have 



POLITICAL REVIEW. 271 

no gains but freight. This observation is a digression, but it 
was obviously proper to make it, as the democrats have never 
ceased to misrepresent the subject. 

It is little to be expected, that America will retain all her 
navigation and commerce. The nations, which the British 
navy depressed, are now making regulations to revive their 
commerce and their colony monopolies. France, the boasted 
friend of commercial liberty, is setting the example. Indeed 
it is clear, that the sole object of her policy is, to stir up every 
nation to a contest with England, to break down the English 
navigation act, and to establish a more rigorous monopoly sys- 
tem of her own. 

The vast capital of England, augmented, as it is, beyond 
all former times, and beyond all proportion with her rivals, 
her manufacturing skill, and the excellence and stability of her 
government, so favourable to property, are advantages, which 
France has little to counterbalance, except the goodness of her 
soil and climate, and the populousness of her territory. Great 
Brittiin has gained much, in respect to political strength, by 
her union with Ireland, a measure, that will extend her growth 
for some ages ; for Ireland is yet semi-barbarous, and the 
more it civilizes, the more it will augment the strength of the 
empii'e. The conquest of Tippoo's country, the Mysore, in 
India, consolidates her valuable dominions in that quarter of 
the globe. Ceylon is an important acquisition, and we v/ish it 
was in our power to state, how important, to English com- 
merce. In the West-Indies, Trinidad is large enough to 
absorb many millions of British capital, and to become another 
Jamaica. 

On the whole, France has gained power, and has lost nothing 
of her arrogance ; Great Britain sees her danger, and, without 
having lost any of her strengtn, has recovered her spirits. 



C 272 .1 
MONITOR. 

FlTst puMis/ied in the Palladhini, April, 1804. 

xVcCIDENT may give rise and extent to republicks, but 
the fixed laws that govern human actions and passions will 
decide their progress and fate. By looking into history and 
seeing what has been, we know what will be. It is thus that 
dumb expeiience speaks audibly ; it is thus that witnesses 
come from the dead and testify. Are we warned ? No. Are 
we roused ? No. We lie in a more death-like sleep than those 
witnesses. Yet let us hear their testimony, though it should 
not quicken our stupidity, but only double the weight of our 
condemnation. 

The experiment of a republick was tried, in all its forms, 
by the Romans. While they occupied only one city, and a 
few miles of territory near its walls, they had all the virtues 
and sustained all the toils and perils of a camp. Every Roman 
was born a soldier, and the state entrusted arms to the hands of 
those only who had rights and rank as citizens. But when 
Rome extended her empire over all Italy, and then over all 
Asia Minor, her size rendered her politicks unmanageable ; 
and power in her town-meetings, where the rabble at lengtli 
out-voted the real citizens, corrupted all virtue, extinguished 
all shame, and trampled on all right, liberty, and justice. Our 
constitution, as Washington left it, is good ; but as amend- 
mients and faction have now modelled it, it is no longer the 
same thing. 

We now set out with our experimental project, exactly 
where Rome failed with hers : we now begin, where she 
ended. We think it wise to spread over half this Western 
hemisphere a form, and it is only a form, of government that 
answered for Rome, while Rome governed a territory as nar- 
row as the district of Columbia. The Romans were awed by 
oaths, and restrained by the despotism of a camp ; for in every 
camp, where there is not mutiny, there must be despotism. 



MONITOR. 273 

We Americans, who laugh at the difference, if difference there 
be, between twenty Gods and no God ; we, who have lost our 
morals, prate about our liberty. We think, that what the Ro- 
mans, with the Scipios, and Catuli, and Catos, could not keep, 
we, Avith our Jeffersons, cannot lose. Those great Romans 
thought it better not to live at all, than to live slaves ; but we 
care more for our ease than our rights. We can bear injustice 
better than expense ; and we dread war infinitely more than 
dishonour. Hence, when we had our election, we chose in- 
famy, and paid fifteen millions for it: we compensated the 
aggressor for the fatigue of kicking us ; and w-e celebrate, as a 
jubilee, that treaty that has made our debasement an article of 
the law of nations. If Rome had ever tamely borne the wrongs 
that W'C took, not merely patiently, but thankfully, joyfully, from 
Spain and Buonaparte, Rome would never have been more 
than a walled town, where valiant robbers secured their booty. 
But we who take insults from slaves, and think it victory and 
glory, to buy the forbearance of a tyrant, we talk of Roman 
liberty, as if we were emulous of it. The Romans honoured 
virtue, and loved glory, and thought it cheaply purchased with 
their blood ; we love money, and, if we had glory, we should 
joyfully truck it off for more money, or another Louisiana. 
With such a difference of spirit, are we to hold the republican 
sceptre, that is to sway a million square miles of territory ? If 
we resemble any thing Roman, it is such a domination as 
Spartacus, and his gladiators and slaves, would have establish- 
■ed, if they had succeeded in their rebellion. The government 
of the three fifths of the ancient dominion, and the offscourings 
of Europe, has no more exact ancient parallel. 

The plebeians of Rome asserted their right to serve in the 
highest offices, and at length obtained it ; but the people still 
chose the most able and eminent men., who were patricians, and 
rejected their tuorthless tribunes. But we see our tribunes suc- 
cessful : the judges are at the bar, and the whiskey leaders sit i7i 
judgment ujion them. Surely that people have lost their morals, 
who bestow their votes on those who have none ; surely they 
35 



274 MONITOR. 

have lost their liberties, when their judges tremble more than 
their culprits. 

The Romans maintained some barrier about popular rights, 
as long as the tribunes were sacred ; but when Tiberius moved 
the people to depose Octavius, a fellow tribune, then violence 
ruled the assemblies, and even the shadow of liberty was lost. 
We have seen the judiciary law repealed, and the judges, 
though made sacred by the constitution, in like manner deposed. 

The Romans, in the days of their degeneracy and corrup- 
tion, set no more bounds to their favour, than to their resent- 
ments. While Pompey was their idol, they conferred unlimited 
authority upon him, over all the Mediterranean sea, and four 
hundred stadia (about forty five miles) within land. We, in 
like manner, devolve on Mr. Jefferson the absolute and uncon- 
trolled dominion of Louisiana. It was thus the Romans were 
made, by their own vote^ familiar with arbitrary power. 

In the contests of their factions, the conquerors itiflicted all 
possible evils o?? the fallen party ; and thus they tasted and liked 
the sweetness of revenge. Except in removals from office, 
and newspaper invectives, in this point our experience is 
yet deficient ; but, from the spirit of ardent malice apparent in 
the dominant faction, it is manifest, that we have men, who, 
though sparing enough of their own blood, would rival Marius 
or Anthony in lavishing that of their enemies. 

The Romans were not wholly sunk from liberty, till morals 
and religion lost their power. But when the Thomas Paines, 
and those who recommended him, as a champion against " the 
presses" of that day, had introduced the doctrines of Epicu- 
rus, the Roman people became almost as corrupt as the French 
are now, and almost as shameless as the favoured patriots of 
our country, who are the first to get office. 

Gradually, all power centred in the Roman populace. 
While they voted by centuries, (the comitia centuriata) pro- 
pei'ty had influence, and could defend itself; but, at length, the 
doctrine of universal suffrage prevailed. The rabble, not only 
of Rome, but of all Italy, and of all the conquered nations, 
flowed in. In Tiberimy defuxit Orontes. Rome could no 



MONITOR. 275 

more be found in Rome itself, than we can see our own coun- 
trymen in the Duanes and Gallatins, and Louisianians, of the 
present day. The senate of Rome sunk to nothing ; the own- 
ers of the country no longer governed it. A single assembly 
seemed to govern the world, and the worst men in it governed 
that assembly. 

Thus we see the passions and vices of men operate uni- 
formly. What remains, and there is not much of this resem- 
blance that remains, unfinished, will be completed. 

The chief hazard that attends the liberty of any great peo- 
ple, lies in their 'blindness to the danger. A weak people 
may descry ruin before it overwhelms them, without any 
power to retard or repel its advance ; but a powerful nation, 
like our own, can be ruined only by its'blindness, that will not 
see desti'uction as it comes ; or by its apathy and selfishness, 
that will not stir, though it sees it. 

Our fate is not foretold by signs and wonders : the meteors 
do not indeed glare in the form of types, and print it legibly 
in the sky ; but our warning is as distinct, and almost as 
awful, as if it were announced in thunder by the cdncussion of 
all the elements. 



C 2r6 ] 

THE REPUBLICAX. 

N°. I. 

first Jiuhlisheil hi the Rcjtcrtanj, yiil'j, 1804. 



w, 



E enjoy, or rather, till very lately, we did enjoy liberty to 
as great an extent, as it has ever been asserted, and to a much 
greater, than it has ever been successfully maintained. Kind 
heaven that gave it, best know^ how frail the tenure and 
how short its date ! Vanity, our only national passion, that is 
never cloyed with its feasts, nor tired with its activity, rates 
high enough the pride of our distinction as a free people, 
without once regarding the perils which environ t/iis^ as every 
other sort of pre-eminence. We have absurdly and presump- 
tuously considered ovir condition as citizens, not as a state of 
probation for the trial of our virtues, but the heaven where 
their indolence is to find rest, and their selfishness an ever- 
lasting reward. We have d.ired to suppose our political pro- 
bation was over, and that a republican constitution, when once 
C fairly engrossed in parchment, was a bridge over chaos that 
could defy the discord of all its elements. The decision of a 
majority, adopting such a constitution, has sounded in our ears 
like a voice saying to the tempestuous sea of liberty, thus far 
shalt thou go, and here shall thy proud waves be stayed. 

Hence it is, that the unthinking and least-informed of our 
citizens have been so ready to look with levity and distrust on 
senates, courts, and judges, the bulwarks of our liberty, and 
with complacency on the licentious faction that is destined to 
subvert it. We have read ourselves, or have been told by 
those whom ancient history has instructed, that republicks 
breed factions, imd that factions breed tyrants. We have seen 
y^ this faction, and its favourites who are thirsting to be tyrants, 
but we have sought and found comfort in our vanity, when it 
asserts, that wc have the sense to unmask our flatterers, and 
the virtue that will scorn their bribes ; we, therefore, shall 
stand, though the liberty of Greece has perished. All this wr 



THE REPUBLICAN. ' 277 

continue to say, Avhile we see an election carried against a 
jnajority of freemen, and an administration, that has prostrated 
the judiciary and the constitution, that has its hirelings and 
emissaries scattered over the face of the land, and that has un- 
constitutionally annexed to the United States an empire, as a 
fund for patronage, and in which executive despotism is es- 
tablished by law. We see ourselves in the full exercise of the 
forms of election, when the substance is gone. We have 
some members in congress with a faithful meanness to repre- 
sent our sernlity, and others to represent our nullity in the 
union ; but our vote and influence avail no more, than that of 
the Isle of Man in the politicks of Great Braitain. If, then, 
we have not survived our political liberty, we have lived long- 
enough to see the pillars of its security crumble to powder. 
If the middle and Eastern states still retc^in any thing in the 
union worth possessing, we hold it by a precarious and de- 
grading tenure ; not as of right, but by sufferance ; not as the 
guarded treasure of freemen, but as the pittance, which the 
disdain of conquerors has left to their captives. 

W^HiLE we look roimd with grief and terrour on so much 
of the work of destruction, as three years have accomplished, 
we I'esolve to hope and sleep in security for the future. We 
will not believe, that the actual prevalence of a faction is any 
thing worse, than an adverse accident, to which all human 
affairs are liable. Demagogues have taken advantage of our 
first slumbers, but we are awaking and shall burst their " Lilli- 
putian ties ;" and as we really do expect, that the jacobins will 
divide, and that *** and others will turn state's evidence to con- 
vict their accomplices, we resolve to indulge our hopes and our 
indolence together, and leave it to time, no matter what time, 
and truth, to do their slow but sure work, without 'our concur- 
rence. We still cherish the theories that are dear to our 
vanity. We still expect, that men will act in their politicks, 
as if they had no passions, and will be most callous or superi- 
our to their influence at the very moment, when the arts of 
tyrants or the progress of publick disorders have exalted 
them to fury. Then, yes, then, in that chosen hotu', reason 



278 THE REPUBLICAN. 

will display her authority, because she will be free to combat 
errour. Her voice will awe tumult into silence : revolution 
will quench her powder when it is half exploded ; the thunder 
will be checked in mid volley. 

Such are the consolations that bedlam gives to philosophy, 
and that philosophy faithfully gives back to bedlam — and bed- 
lam enjoys them. The Chronicle, with the fervour of scur- 
rility and all the sincerity of ignorance, avers, that there is no 
danger — our affairs go on well ; and Middlesex is comforted. 
They can see no danger : if Etna should blaze, it would not 
cure the moles of their blindness. 

But all other men who have eyes are forced to confess, 
that the progress of our aflFairs is in conformity with the fixed 
laws of our nature, and the known course of republicks. Our 
wisdom made a government and committed it to our virtue to 
keep ; but our passions have engrossed it, and they have 
armed our vices to maintain their usurpation. 

What then are we to do ? Are we to sit still, as hereto- 
fore, till we are overtaken by destruction, or shall we rouse 
now, late as it is, and shew by our effort against a jacobin fac- 
tion, that, if we cannot escape, we will not deserve, our fate ? 



THE REPUBLICAN. N°. IL 

WE justly consider the condition of civil liberty as the most 
exalted, to which any nation can aspire ; but high as its rank 
is, ajid precious as are its pi'erogatives, it has not pleased 
God, in the order of his providence, to confer this pre-eminent 
blessing, except upon a very few, and those very small, spots 
of the universe. The rest sit in darkness, and as little desire 
the light of liberty, as they are fit to endure it. 

We are ready to Avonder, that the best gifts are the most 
sparingly bestowed, and rashly to conclude, that despotism is 
the decree of heaven, because by far the largest part of the 
worjd lies bound in its fetters. But, either on tracing the 



THE REPUBLICAN. 279 

course of events in history, or on examining the character and 
passions of man, we shall find, that the work of slavery is his 
own, and that he is not condemned to wear chains, till he has 
been his own aitificer to forge them. We shall find, that 
society cannot subsist, and that the streets of Boston would be 
worse than the lion's den, unless the appetites and passions of 
the violent are made subject to an adequate control. How 
much control will be adequate to that end, is a problem of no 
easy solution beforehand, and of no sort of difficulty after some 
experience. For all who have any thing to defend, and all, 
indeed, who have nothing to ask protection for, but their lives, 
Avill desire that protection ; and not only acqviiesce, but rejoice 
in the progress of those slave-making intrigues and tumults, 
which, at length, assure to society its repose, though it sleeps 
in bondage. Thus it will happen, and, as it is the course of 
nature, it cannot be resisted, that there will soon or late be 
control and government enough. 

It is, also, obvious, that there may be, and probably will 
be, the least control and the most liberty there, where the 
turbulent passions are the least excited, and whei*e the old 
habits and sober reasons of the people are left free to govern 
them. 

Hence it is undeniably plain, that the mock patriots, the 
opposers of Washington and the constitution, from 1788 to 
this day, who, under pretext of being the people's friends, 
have kept them in a state of continual jealousy, irritation, 
and discontent, have deceived the people, and perhaps them- 
selves, in regard to the tendency of their principles and con- 
duct ; for, instead of lessening the pressure of government, 
and contracting the sphere of its powers, they have removed 
the ficid-marks that bounded its exercise, and left it arbitrary 
and Avithout limits. The passions of the people have been 
kept in agitation, till the influence of truth, reason, and the 
excellent habii i: we derive from our ancestors is lost or greatly 
impaired ; till it is plain, that those, whom manners and morals 
can no longer govern, must be governed by force ; and that 



280 THE REPUBLICAN. 

force a dominant faction derives from the passions of its 
adlierents : on that alone they rely. 

Take one example, which will illustrate the case as well as 
a hur.dred : the British treaty was opposed by a faction, headed 
by six or ei;^ht mob leaders in our cities, and a rabble, whom 
the arts of these leaders, had trained for their purpose. Could 
a feeble government, covild mere truth and calm reason, point- 
ing out the best publick interest, have carried that treaty 
through and effected its execution in good faith, had not the 
virtue and firmness of Washington supplied an almost super- 
human energy to its powers at the moment ? No treaty made 
by the government has ever proved more signally beneficial. 
The nature of the treaty, however, is not to the point of the 
present argument. Suppose a mob opposition had defeated it, 
and confusion, if not war, had ensued, the confusion that eveiy 
society is fated to suffer, when, on a trial of strength, a faction 
in its bosom is found stronger than its government ; on this 
supposition, and that the conquering faction had seized the 
reins of power, is it to be believed, that they would not in- 
stantly provide against a like opposition to their own treaties ? 
Did they not so provide, and annex Louisiana, and squander 
millions in a week ? Have we not seen in France, how early 
and how effectually the conqueror takes care to prevent 
another rival from playing the same game, by which he him- 
self pi'evailed against his predecessor ? 

Let any man, who has any understanding, exercise it to 
see, that the American jacobin party, by rousing the popular 
passions, inevitably augments the powers of government, and 
contracts within narrower bounds, and on a less sound founda- 
tion, the privileges of the people. 

Facts, yes, facts that speak in terrour to the soul, confirm 
this speculative reasoning. What limits are there to the pre- 
rogatives of the present administration ? and whose business is 
it, and in whose power does it lie, to keep them within those 
limits ? Surely not in the senate ; the small states are now in 
vassalage, and they obey the nod of Virginia. Not in the judi- 
ciary ; that fortress, which the constitution had made too strong 



THE REPUBLICAN. 281 

for an assault, can now be reduced by famine. The constitu- 
tion, alas ! that sleeps with Washington, having no mournere 
but tlie virtuous, and no monument but history. Louisiana, in V 

open and avowed defiance of the constitution, is by treaty to be 
added to the union : the bread of the children of the union is 
to be taken and given to the dogs. 

Judge, then, good men and true, judge by the effects, 
whether the tendency of the intrigues of the party was to 
extend or contract the measure of popular liberty. Judge, 
whether the little finger of Jefferson is not thicker than the 
loins of Washington's administration ; and, after you have 
judged, and felt the terrour that will be inspired by the result, 
then reflect, how little your efforts can avail to prevent the 
continuance, nay, the perpetuity of his power. Reflect, and 
be calm ! Patience is the virtue of slaves, and almost the only 
one that will pass for merit with their masters. 



r 282 ] 



A SKETCH 



THE CHAltACTER OP ALEXANDER HAMILTON. 



IHli lollowing' skcteli, wrltttu immttliately after tlie death of the ever to be lamenteij 
Hamilton, was read to a select coiniiaiiy of friends, and at their desire it fii-st appeared \n 
the Repertory, July, 1804. 



I 



. r is with really great men as with great literary works, the 
excellence of both is best tested by the extent and durableness 
of their impression. The publick has not suddenly, but after 
an experience of five and twenty years, taken that impression 
of the just celebrity of Alexander Hamilton, that nothing 
but his extraordinary intrinsick merit could have made, and 
still less, could have made so deep and maintained so long. In 
this case, it is safe and correct to judge by effects : we some- 
times calculate the height of a mountain, by measuring the 
length of its shadow. 

It is not a party, for party distinctions, to the honour of our 
citizens be it said, are confounded by the event ; it is a nation, 
that weeps for its bereavement. We weep, as the Romans 
did over the ashes of Germanicus. It is a thoughtful, forebod- 
ing soiTow, that takes possession of the heart, and sinks it with 
no Counterfeited heaviness. 

It is here proper and not invidious to remark, that, as the 
emulation excited by conducting great affairs commonly trains 
and exhibits great talents, it is seldom the case, that the fairest 
and soundest judgment of a great man's merit is to be gained, 
exclusively, from his associates in counsel or in action. Per- 
sons of conspicuous merit themselves are, not unfrequently, 
bad judges and still worse witnesses on this point ; often rivals, 
sometimes enemies ; almost always unjust, and still oftener 
envious or cold. The opmions they give to the publick, as well 
as those they privately formed for themselves, are, of course, 
discolotu-ed with the hue of their prejudices and resentments. 



SKE'l'CH OP HAINIILTON. 283 

But the body of the people, Avho cannot feel a spirit of rival- 
ship towards those, whom they see elevated by nature and 
education so far above their heads, are more equitable, and, 
supposing a competent time and opportunity for information 
on the subject, more intelligent judges. Even party I'ancour, ' 
eager to maim the living, scorns to strip the slain. The most ' 
hostile passions are soothed or baffled by the fall of their anta- 
gonist. Then, if not sooner, the very multitude will fairly decide 
on character, according to their experience of its impression ; 
and as long as virtue, not unfrequently for a time obscured, is 
ever respectable when distinctly seen, they cannot withhold, 
and they will not stint their admiration. 

If then the popular estimation is ever to be taken for the 
true one, the uncommonly profound publick sorrow for the 
death of Alexander Hamilton sufficiently explains and vin- 
dicates itself. He had not made himself dear to the passions 
of the multitude by condescending, in defiance of his honour 
and conscience, to become their instrument : he is not lamented, 
because a skilful flatterer is now mute for ever. It was by the 
practice of no art, by wearing no disguise ; it was not by acci- 
dent, or by the levity or profligacy of party, but in despite of 
its malignant misi-epresentation ; it was by bold and inflexible 
adherence to truth, by loving his coiuitry better than himself, '/ 
pi'eferring its interest to its favour, and serving it, when it was 
unwilling and unthankful, in a manner that no other person 
could, that he rose ; and the true popularity, the homage that 
is paid to virtue, followed him. It was not in the power of 
party or envy to pull him down ; but he rose with the re- 
fulgence of a star, till the very prejudice, that could not reach, 
was at length almost ready to adore him. 

It is, indeed, no imagined Avound that inflicts so keen an 
anguish. Since the news of his death, the novel and strange 
events of Europe have succeeded each other unregarded ; the 
nation has been enchained to its subject, and broods over its 
grief, which is more deep than eloquent, which though dumb, 
can mivke itself felt without utterance, and which does not 



284 SKETCH OF 

merely pass, but, like an electrical shock, iit the same instant 
smites and astonishes, as it passes from Georgia to Newhamp- 
shire. 

There is a kind of force put upon our thoughts by this 
disaster, which detains and rivets them to a closer contempla- 
tion of those resplendent virtues, that are now lost, except to 
memory, and there they will dwell for ever. 

That writer would deserve the fame of a publick benefac- 
tor, who could exhibit the character of Hamilton, with the 
truth and force that all who intimately knew him conceived it : 
his example would then take the same ascendant, as his talents. 
The portrait alone, however exquisitely finished, could not 
inspire genius Avhere it is not ; but, if the world should again 
have possession of so rare a gift, it might awaken it v/here it 
sleeps, as by a spark from heaven's own altar; for, surely, if 
there is any thing like divinity in naan, it is in his admiration 
of virtue. 

But who alive can exhibit this portrait? If our age, on that 
supposition more fruitful than any other, had produced two 
Hamiltons, one of them might then have depicted the other. 
To delineate genius one must feel its power : Hamilton, and 
he alone, with all its inspirations, could have transfused its 
whole fervid soul into the picture, and swelled its lineaments 
into life. The writer's mind, expanding with his own peculiar 
enthusiasm, and glowing with kindred fires, would then have 
stretched to the dimensions of his subject. 

Such is the infirmity of human nature, it is very difficult for 
a man, who is greatly the superiour of his associates, to pre- 
serve their friendship without abatement; yet, though he could 
not possibly conceal his superiority, he was so little inclined to 
display it, he was so much at ease in its possession, that no 
jealousy or envy chilled his bosom, when his friends obtained 
praise. He was, indeed, so entirely the friend of his friends, 
so magnanimous, so superiour, or, more properly, so insensi- 
ble to all exclusive selfishness of spiiit, so frank, so ardent, yel 
so little overbearhig, so much trusted, admu'ed, beloved, almost 
adored, that his power over their aficctions Avas entire, and 



HAMILTON. 285 

" lasted through his life. We do not believe, that he left any 
Avorthy man his foe, who had ever been his friend. 

Men of the most elevated minds have not always the readiest 
discernment of character. Perhaps he was sometimes too sud- 
den and too lavish in bestowmg his confidence : his manly spi- 
rit, disdaining' artifice, suspected none. But, while the power 
of his friends over him seemed to have no limits, and really 
had none, in respect to those things which were of a nature to 
be yielded, no man, not the Roman Cato himself, was more in- 
flexible on every point that touched, or only seemed to touch, 
integrity and honour. With him, it was not enough to be vui- 
suspected ; his bosom would have glowed, like a furnace, at 
its own whispers of reproach. Mere purity would have seemed 
to him below praise ; and such were his habits, and such his 
nature, that the pecuniary temptations, which many others can 
only with great exertion and self-denial resist, had no attrac- 
tions for him. He was very far from obstinate ; yet, as his 
friends assailed his opinions with less profound thought, than 
he had devoted to them, they were seldom shaken by discus- 
sion. He defended them, however, with as much mildness as 
force, and evinced, that, if he did not yield, it was not for want 
of gentleness or modesty. v 

The tears that flow on this fond recital, will never dry up. \> 
My heart, penetrated with the remembrance of the man, grows 
liquid as I write, and I could pour it out like water. I could 
weep too for my country, which, mournful as it is, docs not 
know the half of its loss. It deeply laments, when it turns its 
eyes back, and sees Avhat Hamilton tvas ; but my soul stiffens 
with despair, when I think what Hamilton would have been. 

His social affections and his private virtues are not, however, 
so pi'operly the object of publick attention, as the conspicuous 
and commanding qualities that gave him his fame and influence 
in the world. It is not as Apollo, enchanting the shepherds 
Avith his lyre, that we deplore him ; it is as Hercules, treach- 
erously slain in the midst of his unfinished labovu's, leaving the 
world overnm with monsters. 



286 SKETCH OF 

His early life we pass over ; though his heroick spirit, in 
the army, has furnished a theme, that is dear to patriotism, and 
M'ill be sacred to gloiy. 

In all the different stations, in which a life of active useful- 
ness has placed him, we find him not more remarkably dis- 
tinguished by the extent, than by the variety and versatility of 
his talents. In every place he made it apparent, that no other 
man could have filled it so well ; and in times of critical impor- 
tance, in which alone he desired employment, his services 
were justly deemed absolutely indispensable. As secretary of 
the treasury, his was the powerful spirit that presided over 
the chaos : 

Confusion heard liis voice, and wild uproar 
Stood ruled 

Indeed, in organizing the federal government in 1789, every 
man, of either sense or candour, will allow, the difficulty seerai- 
cd greater than the first-rate abilities could surmount. The 
event has shewn, that his abilities were greater than those diffi- 
culties. He surmounted them — and Washington's administra- 
tion was the most wise and beneficent, the most prosperous, and 
ought to be the most popular, that ever was intrusted with 
the affairs of a nation. Great as was Washington's merit, 
much of it in plan, much in execution, Avill of coui-se devolve 
upon his minister. 

As a lawyer, his comprehensive genius reached the princi- 
ples of his profession : he compassed its extent, he fathomed 
its profound, perhaps, even more familiarly and easily, than 
the ordinary rules of its practice. With most men law is a 
trade ; with him it was a science. 

As a statesman, he was not more distinguished by the great 
extent of his views, than by the caution with which he provid- 
ed against impediments, and the watchfulness of his care over 
right and tlie liberty of the subject. In none of the many 
revenue bills, which he framed, though committees reported 
them, is there to be found a single clause that savours of des- 
potick power ; not one that the sagest chi^mpions of law and 
liberty would, on that groimd, hesitate to approve aiid adopt* 



HAMILTON. 287 

It is rare, that a man, who owes so much to nature, descends 
to seek more from industry ; but he seemed to depend on indus- 
try, as if nature had done nothing for him. His liabits of 
investigation were very remarkable ; his mind seemed to cling 
to his subject, till he had exhausted it. Hence the uncommon 
superiority of his reasoning powers, a superiority, that seemed 
to be augmented from every source, and to be fortified by every 
auxiliaiy, learning, taste, wit, imagination, and eloquence. 
These were embellished and enforced by his temper and man- 
ners, by his fame and his virtues. It is difficult, in the midst 
of such various excellence, to say, in what particular the effect 
of his greatness was most manifest. No man more pi'omptly 
discerned truth ; no man more clearly displayed it : it was not 
merely made visible — it seemed to come bright with illumina- 
tion from his lips. But prompt and clear as he was, fervid as 
Demosthenes, like Cicero, full of resource, he was not less 
remarkable for the copiousness and completeness of his argu- 
ment, that left little for cavil, and nothing for doubt. Some 
men take their strongest argument as a weapon, and use no 
other ; but he left nothing to be inquired for more^nothing 
to be answered. He not only disarmed his adversaries of their , 
pretexts and objections, but he stripped them of all excuse 
for having urged them ; he confounded and subdued, as well 
as convinced. He indemnified them, however, by making his 
discussion a complete map of his subject ; so that his oppo- 
nents might, indeed, feel ashamed of their mistakes, but they 
could not repeat them. In fact, it was no common effort that 
could preserve a really able antagonist from becoming his 
convert ; for the truth, which his researches so distinctly pre- 
sented to the understanding of others, was rendered almost 
irresistibly commanding and impressive by the love and reve- 
rence, which, it was ever apparent, he pi'ofoundly cherished 
for it in his own. While patriotism glowed in his heart, wis- ■ / 
dom blended in his speech her authority with her charms. // 

Such, also, is the character of his writings. Judiciously 
collected, they will be a publick treasure. 



28!i SKETCH OF 

No man ever more disdained duplicity, or chivvied fi-a7ihiess 
further tlian he. This gave to his political opponents some 
temporary advantages, and currency to some popular preju- 
dices, which he would have lived down, if his death had not pre- 
maturely dispelled them. He knew, that factions have ever 
in the end prevailed in free states ; and, as he saw no security 
(and who living can see any adequate ?) against the destruction 
of that liberty which he loved, and for which he was ever ready 
to devote his life, he spoke at all times according to his anxious 
forebodings ; and his enemies interpreted all that he said accord- 
ing to the supposed interest of their party. 

But he ever extorted confidence, even when he most pro- 
voked opposition. It was impossible to deny, that he was a 
patriot, and such a patriot, as, seeking neither popularity nor 
office, without artifice, without meanness, the best Romans in 
their best days would have admitted to citizenship and to the 
consulate. Virtue, so rare, so pure, so bold, by its very purity 
and excellence, inspired suspicion, as a prodigy. His enemies 
judged of him by themselves : so splendid and arduous were 
his services, they could not find it in their hearts to Relieve, 
that they were disinterested. 

Unparalleled as they were, they were, nevertheless, no 
otherwise requited, than by the applause of all good men, 
and by his own enjoyment of the spectacle of that national 
prosperity and honour, which was the effect of them. After 
facing calumny, and triumphantly surmounting an vmrelenting 
persecution, he retired from office, with clean, though empty 
hands, as rich as reputation and an unblemished integrity could 
make him. 

Some have plausibly, though erroneously, inferred from the 
great extent of his abilities, that his ambition was inordinate. 
This is a mistake. Such men, as have a painful conscious- 
ness, that their stations happen to be far moi'e exalted than 
their talents, are generally the most ambitious. Hamilton, on 
the contrary, though he had many competitors, had no rivals ; 
for he did not thirst for power, nor would he, as it was well 
known, descend to office. Of course, he suffered no pain 



HAMILTON. 289 

from envy, when bad men rose, though he felt anxiety for the 
publick. He was perfectly content and at ease, in private 
life. Of what was he ambitious ? Not of wealth — no man 
held it cheaper. Was it of popularity ? That weed of the 
dunghill, he knew, when i-ankest, was nearest to withering. 
There is no doubt, that he desired glory,"which to most men 
is too inaccessible to be an object of desire ; but, feeling his 
own foi'ce, and that he was tall enough to reach the top of 
Pindus or of Helicon, he longed to deck his brow with the 
wreath of immortality. A vulgar ambition could as little 
comprehend, as satisfy, his views : he thirsted only for that 
fame, which virtue would not blush to confer, nor time to con- 
vey to the end of his course. 

The only ordinary distinction, to which, we confess, he did 
aspire, was militaiy ; and for that, in the event of a foreign 
war, he would have been solicitous. He undoubtedly discov- 
ered the predominance of a soldier's feelings ; and all that is 
honour, in the character of a soldier, was at home in his heart. 
His early education was in the camp ; there the first fervours 
of his genius were poured forth, and his earliest and most cor- 
dial friendships formed ; there he became enamoured of glory, 
and was admitted to her embrace. 

Those who knew him best, and especially in the army, will 
believe, that, if occasions had called him forth, he was qualified, 
beyond any man of the age, to display the talents of a great 
general. 

It may be very long, before our country will want such 
military talents ; it will probably be much longer, before it will 
again possess them. 

Alas 1 the great man who was, at all times, so much the 
ornament of our country, and so exclusively fitted, in its 
extremity, to be its champion, is withdrawn to a purer and 
more tranquil region. We are left to endless labours and 
unavailing regrets. 

Such honours Illon to her hero paid. 

And peaceful slept the mighty Hector's shade. 

* 37 



290 SKETCH OF HAMILTON. 

The most substantial glory of a country, is in its virtuous 
great men : its prosperity will depend on its docility to learn 
from their example. That nation is fated to ignominy and 
servitude, for which such men have lived in vain. Power 
may be seized by a nation, that is yet barbarous ; and wealth 
may be enjoyed by one, that it finds, or renders sordid : the one 
is the gift and the sport of accident, and the other is the sport 
of power. Both are mutable, and have passed away without 
leaving behind them any other memorial than ruins that 
offend taste, and traditions that baffle conjecture. But the 
glory of Greece is imperishable, or will last as long as learn- 
ing itself, which is its monument : it strikes an everlasting root, 
and bears perennial blossoms on its grave. The name of 
Hamilton would have honoured Greece, in the age of Aris- 
lides. May heaven, the guardian of our liberty, grant, that 
our country may be fruitful of Hamiltons, and faithful to 
their glory. 



C 291 3 
REFLECTIONS ON THE WAR IN EUROPE. 

First publis/ied in the Repertory, May, 1805. 

X WELVE years ago, the war that was kindled by the 
French revolution was represented to be exclusively worthy 
of the attention of Americans. While the French were pul- 
ling down their government, nothing seemed so fine as their 
very worst conduct, to the party who were leagued together 
to pull down our own. They called our eyes to the banks of' 
the Rhine, where the battles of liberty, as they were fools 
enough to say, were fighting ; and we roasted oxen for joy, 
because Pichegru took A.usterdam, and macie the Dutch as 
free as the West-India negroes. 

This sort of noise is a good deal hushed, for two reasons : 
one is, the jacobins have got their object, and our govern- 
ment is doivn ; the other is, the mask of French hypocrisy 
has dropped off, or is so torn in their scuffles, that we can 
plainly see the knaves' faces of their liberty-loving dema- 
gogues. French examples are not now quoted, nonv^ when 
they are most instructive, because they really, in some de- 
gree, alarm and deter the dupes whom they lead : asses trot 
the better in dangerous roads, for wearing their blinders. 
Hence it is, that our lords and masters of Virginia affect to 
dislike all discussions of the political probabilities of the war, 
and to consider our curiosity as useless and badly directed. " 
Our lazy masters are, in fact, so engrossed with the care of 
governing us for their own exclusive benefit, that they have 
not much relish for any other reflections ; and, besides all 
other considerations, Mr. Jefferson and his cabinet have a 
mortal dread of the power of Buonaparte, which has not been 
in the least abated by their experienced necessity, since the 
purchase of Louisiana, to court and flatter him. They are 
quaking with fear that he will require from them more 
assistance, than they dare either to give or refuse him. They 



292 REFLECTIONS ON 

have yielded the point with regard to the trade with St. 
Domingo, with as much poverty of spirit as might be ex- 
pected ; and our seamen will be whipped and buried in 
dungeons, or tucked up at the yard arm, as the great nation 
may by its emperour think fit to decree. The trade is not 
denied to be lawful, yet its interdiction is better, no doubt 
our patriots will say, than a war. 

We have seen, too, how quarrelsome an act Mr. *** was 
disposed to get passed for the protection of our seamen, that 
is of British seamen, who were to be forcibly protected, when 
they had deserted to our vessels. 

In all this, and in every thing else, the power of Buona- 
parte crosses the Atlantick. It is childish to inquire, what 
harm do we suffer by his making himself king of Italy? Wc 
answer, by his power he makes himself the king of terrours 
to Mr. Jefferson; and if we are not embroiled with England 
to please him, it is because, afraid as our brave rulers are of 
Buonaparte, they are still more afraid of getting into a war 
with England, that would instantly smash their popularity to 
atoms. 

Let no person that remembers Mr. Madison's famous 
commercial resolutions, in which he proposed to fight for 
France by a war of regulations, let no such person deny the 
effective and dangerous influence of the preponderant power 
of France on the peace and safety, the honour, and, let us 
add, the honesty of our government. For, be it remembered 
also, the ever to be abhorred project of confiscating British 
debts grew out of the same passion for France and hostility 
to England. 

Nor is the loss of that silly fondness a security for spirited 
and independent counsels in America. Our rulers are of a 
sort and character to act from their fears ; and their fear is a 
much more steady cause of action than their love. Of course, 
we are to expect, that the vast power of France will not cease 
to manifest itself, to the injury of our trade, to the oppression 
of our brave seamen, and to the infinite disgrace of the gov- 
ernment that abandons them. 



THE WAR IN EUROPE. 293 

Let us then dare to survey this huge Colossus, about 
whose legs we have the honour to creep. 

There was a time, when the people of France were really- 
infatuated with the notion of republican liberty. They say 
themselves, it was a delusion, and has passed away. But it 
lasted long enough to break down and destroy every thing 
in France that was not military, and by its contagion in Ger- 
many, Holland, Switzerland, and Italy, to enfeeble and divide 
all the force that ought to have resisted France. The con- 
quests of France have flattered the national vanity, and, by 
accumulating the spoils of so many nations, have, in part, 
filled up the void that was made by the destruction of com- 
mercial and manufacturing capital. Instead of the opulence 
of the crowded mart or busy workshop, the country was filled 
like the camp of Attila or Tamerlane, with spoils and trophies. 
The naval superiority of the British, by destroying their 
trade, has contributed to decide and prolong this exclusively 
military character of the French. 

We are, then, to view France as a political phenomenon, 
not less tremendous by her having renounced every trade 
but that of a conqueror, than by her colossal size. Like the 
old Romans, and, indeed, like every other nation intoxicated 
with a passion for conquest, the French are completely mili- 
tary, and their ardour is a kind of fanaticism, such as made 
the successors of Mahomet the monarchs of the East. 

The Romans, in like manner, contended, for almost five 
centuries, with the petty nations of Italy, their equals in 
valour, their inferiours only in discipline. In this hardy 
school, they were trained for conquest. But, after they had 
gained the dominion of Italy, they never again contended 
with their equals. The Carthaginians, though sustained for 
sixteen years by the transcendent genius of Hannibal, were 
almost equally enfeebled by their spirit of commerce and 
their spirit of faction. The Macedonians, like the modern 
Prussians, had a fine army, a full treasury, and a state of but 
moderate extent, hemmed in by jealous, hostile neighbours. 
In conquering them and the rest of Greece, the Romans 



'29i- J'tEFLECTIONS ON 

found the jEtolians and some other states ready to accept 
chains, and to impose them on their countrymen. The light 
of Greece, the most refulgent the world ever saw, was 
quenched with its liberty. Egypt was so sunk in vice, that 
it fell without a contest. Antiochus the great, king of Syria, 
had an infinite number of men, but few soldiers. The glory 
and the spoils of his conquest were greater than its difficulty. 
Gaul, the modern France, was filled with barbarians, who had 
not the sense nor perhaps the power to unite against Cesar, 
and they fell in succession. Spain resisted longer and more 
desperately, but not as a nation combined to resist an invader, 
but by endless partial insurrections to throw off its chains. 

The power of Mithridates was too recently formed, and 
composed of states too near barbarism, to contend with Rome ; 
ye*t for many years he proved her most dreaded foe. 

Thus it was, that the chief difficulties in conquering the 
old world were really surmounted, before Rome was known 
to have formed the design, or, perhaps, was conscious she 
had it to undertake. 

France, in like manner, has been for many centuries ex- 
ercised in arms. She has had to contend with all her neigh- 
bours, her equals in valour, her inferiours in military institu- 
tions and spirit. Thus, a nation has been educated for the 
conquest of the world. Spain, once her superiour, is now 
her vassal. Austria, her rival, is chained to a prison floor by 
her hatred of Prussia, her dread of France, and, perhaps, her 
still greater dread of Russia. Fear and policy will both 
make her subservient to Buonaparte, unless he should prefer 
the active assistance of Prussia to that of Austria. He seems 
to have the best grounds to expect, that, if Russia should 
be his enemy, he will have one of the other two for an ally. 
On this supposition, we can scarcely conceive of an efficient 
alliance against France on the continent of Europe. While 
its numerous states were independent, and the safety of each 
was the care of all, the ambition of France was more trouble- 
some than formidable. In this school of policy and arms, 
this gymnasium, in which all strenuously contended and in 



THE WAR IN EUROPE. 295 

turns excelled, France, like a prize-fighter, acquired the har- 
diness, the dexterity, and the force, that have made her the 
victor. The revolution has suddenly opened her eyes to 
contemplate her situation, and all her ardour is awakened by 
perceiving, that, already, more than half her ambitious work 
is done. Less fighting, less hazard, than her rivalships with 
the house of Austria have cost the Bourbons, will make her 
mistress of Europe from the Baltick to the Hellespont. With 
sixty millions of people in France and its dependencies, half 
the population of the Roman empire under Trajan, she has 
twice the force. The Russians, like the ancient Parthians, 
are her only enemies on land, and they are too distant to be 
formidable. 

The other states of Europe, England excepted, are more 
than half subdued by their divisions and their fears. 

It is absurd to suppose, that this power, so tremendous to 
every lover of his country, will be inert for want of pecuni- 
ary resources. The Dutch and Italians sow, and the French 
reap. Sic vos non vobis fertis aratra boves. Old Rome, after 
the conquest of Macedonia, subsisted for more than a hun- 
dred years by tributes without taxes. Mahomet, Genghis 
Khan, an i Tamerlane did not stop to ask their collectors of 
taxes, whether they should conquer Asia. 

Nor will the people of France grow weary or ashamed of 
their yoke, and rise to throw it oft': they are nothing, the 
army is every thing. Besides, they are really proud of the 
glory of their master, and from their very souls rejoice in 
the distinction of their chains. 

Can it be, some will say, that the man, who basely fled 
from his brave comrades in Egypt, the man red with assassi- 
nation at Joppa, the obscure Corsican, an emperour only by 
his crimes, will be preferred to the Bourbons ? Yes ; the 
army prefers him. The revolution, like a whirlwind, has 
swept all the ncient hierarchy, nobility, and land proprietors 
away, and the new race have an interest to maintain the new 
establishments of the usurpation. Did the populace of Rome 
ever shift their government, because an usurper had obtained 



296 REFLECTIONS ON 

tlie people by money or by blood ? No ; as soon as men per- 
ceive, that there is a force superiour to their own, they desist 
from making any efforts against it : the proud Romans were 
as passive in the yoke, as the Dutch are now. 

The destinies of the civilized world, then, obviously depend 
on their ability to resist this new Roman domination. Russia 
has no fears of being subjugated, and, for that very reason, 
will act with less zeaV and less faithfulness in what ought to 
be the common cause against France. She will pursue the 
projects of her ambition, which seek aggrandizement in the 
South of Europe, and as a naval power. Hence, it is to be 
feared, her coalition with England will not be cordial enough 
to be successful : and the only soj-t of success that is of any 
moment in this discussion, is the reduction of the power of 
France. Russia aspires to an influence in the German 
empire, which cannot fail to alarm and disgust both Prussia 
and Austria ; and hence it was, that she lately interfered in 
the affair of the German indemnities. She also seeks a foot- 
ing in the Mediterranean, preparatory to her designs agains-t 
the Turks. It was on this account she wished to occupy 
Malta, and that she now fills Corfu with her troops. These 
* are selfish and dangerous schemes, which England cannot 
second or approve. 

If, nevertheless, Russia should obtain of Prussia and Aus- 
tria, that the one should be neutral, and the other an associ- 
ate against France, a continental war is to be expected. In 
case English money and an English army should aid the 
allies, Buonaparte would find his supremacy again in hazard. 

But England, the great adversary of France, cannot be- 
come a military nation, in the sense that the P'rench are, nor, 
it is to be feared, in the degree that the crisis absolutely 
requires she should. Her commerce binds her in golden 
fetters. An artisan or a farmer is worth, probably, one hun- 
dred pounds sterling to the nation. To make such men 
soldiers, great bounties must be paid, and great sacrifices 
suffered. To feed and provide an English army, is also very 
expensive ; want, and military fanaticism crowd the ranks 



THE WAR IN EUROPE. 29/' 

©f Buonaparte, ancj their enemies or their allies provide their 
subsistence. Unfortunately too, Mr. Pitt yielded to the pressure 
of the moment, and accepted the delusive services of his half 
million of volunteers. It is impossible he should think these 
men of buckram fit to withstand the men of steel, if they should 
invade the island. 

In times of great danger, popular notions are often worse 
than frivolous. The volunteer force is factious, expensive, and 
useless, as every soldier knows. But it is worse. It* has made 
the nation unmanageable, puffed them up with a vain depen- 
dence on the shew of force, a shew as empty as that of ^^ 
army of Croesus, and has made their rulers afraid to impose, 
and the people unwilling to bear, the necessary burdens of real 
soldiership. The strength of a modern state at war consists 
in its soldiers^ not in the trappings of the peaceable apprentices, 
who are arrayed in scarlet to act the comedy of an army. Eng- 
land consumes its men and means to act this comedy, and is 
thus chained doAvn to the expense and the despair of a defen- 
sive system. 

Had she an efficient disposeable army of one hundred thou- 
sand men, one third of whom could be employed in expeditions, 
or in co-operation with continental allies, the cause of Europe 
and of the civilized world would not be quite desperate. If 
the enslaved nations would exert half as much force to 
recover their liberty, as the French will make them em.ploy 
to subjugate the yet unconquered states, the contest against 
France might be renewed with hopes of advantage. 

Let not the men in power in America deceive themselves. 
If Buonaparte prevails, they will be his vassals, even more 
signally than they are at present. The trade of this country 
has already twice been made the spoil of France. The inso- 
lent aggressor is obstructed by the British navy, and not by 
his friendship for us, or respect for our rights, from repeating 
and extending his rapacity and violence. Least of all is he 
restrained by any opinion of the force of our nation, or the 
spirit of our government. 
.»8 



B 



[ 298 1 
CHARACTER OF BRUTUS. 

rirst published! n the Repciionj, An gust, 1805. 



'RUT US killed his benefactor and friend, Cesar, because 
Cesar had usurped the sovereign power. Therefore, Brutus 
was a patriot, Avhose character is to be admired, and whose 
example should be imitated, as long as republican liberty shall 
have a friend or an enemy in the world. 

^ This short argument seems to have, hitherto, vindicated 
the fame of Brutus from reproach and even from scrutiny ; 
yet, perhaps, no character has been more over-rated, and no 
example worse applied. He was, no doubt, an excellent scholar 
and a complete master, as well as faithful votary of philoso- 
phy ; but, in action, the impetuous Cassius greatly excelled 
him. Cassius alone of all the conspirators acted with prompt- 
ness and energy in providing for the war, which, he foresaw, 
the death of Cesar would kindle ; Brutus spent his time in 
indolence and repining, the dupe of Anthony's arts, or of his 
own false estimate of Roman spirit and virtue. The people 
had lost a kind master, and they lamented him. Brutus sum- 
moned them to make efforts and sacrifices, and they viewed his 
cause with apathy, his crime with abhorrence. 

Before the decisive battle of Philippi, Brutus seems, after 
the death of Cassius, to have sunk vmder the weight of the 
sole command. He still had many able officers left, and among 
them Messala, one of the first men of that age, so fruitful of 
great men ; but Brutus no longer maintained that ascendant over 
his ai'my, which talents of the first order maintain every where, 
and most signally in the camp and field of battle. It is fairly, 
then, to be presumed, that his troops had discovered, that 
Brutus, whom they loved and esteemed, was destitute of those 
talents ; for he was soon obliged by their clamours, much 
against his judgment, and against all prudence and good sense, 
to give battle. Thus ended the life of Brutus and the exist- 
ence of the republick. 



GHARACTEll OF BRUTUS. 299 

Whatever doubt there may be of the political and military 
capacity of Brutus, there is none concerning his virtue : his 
principles of action were the noblest that ancient philosophy 
had taught, and his actions were conformed to his principles. 
Nevertheless, our admiration of the man ought not to blind 
our judgment of the deed, which, though it was the blemish 
of his virtue, has shed an unf.:ding splendour on his name. 

For, though the multitude to the end of time will be open 
to flattery, and will joyfully assist their flatterers to become 
their tyrants, yet they will never cease to hate tyrants and 
tyranny with equal sincerity and vehemence. Hence it is, that 
the memory of Brutus, who slew a tyrant, is consecrated as 
the champion and martyr of liberty, and will flourish and look 
green in declamation, as long as the people are prone to be- 
lieve, that those are their best friends, who have proved them- 
selves the greatest enemies of their enemies. 

Ask any one man of morals, whether he approves of assas- 
sination ; he will answer, no. Would you kill your friend and 
benefactor ? No. The question is a horrible insult. Would 
you practise hypocrisy and smile in his face, while your con- 
spiracy is ripening, to gain his confidence and to lull him into 
security, in order to take away his life ? Every honest man, on 
the bare suggestion, feels his blood thicken and stagnate at his 
heart. Yet in this picture Ave see Brutus. It would, perhaps, 
be scarcely just to hold him up to abhorrence ; it is, certainly, 
monstrous and absurd to exhibit his conduct to admiration. 

He did not strike the tyrant from hatred or ambition : his 
motives are admitted to be good ; but was not the action, 
nevertheless, bad ? 

To kill a tyrant, is as much murder, as to kill any other man. 
Besides, Brutus, to extenuate the crime, could have had no 
ratiojial hope of putting an end to the tyranny : he had fore- 
seen and provided nothing to realize it. The conspirators 
relied, foolishly enough, on the love of the multitude for li- 
berty — they loved their safety, their ease, their sports, and their 
demagogue favourites a great deal better. They quietly looked 
en, 33 spectators, and left it to the legions of Anthony, and 



300 CHARACTER OF BRUTUS. 

Octavius, and to those of Syria, Macedonia, and Greece, to 
decide, in the field of Philippi, whether there should be a 
republick or not. It was, accordingly, decided in favour of an 
emperour ; and the people sincerely rejoiced in the political 
calm, that restored the games of the circus, and the plenty 
of bread. 

Those, who cannot bring their judgments to condemn the 
killing of a tyrant, must nevertheless agree that the blood of 
Cesar was unprofitably shed. Liberty gained nothing by it, 
and humanity lost a great deal ; for it cost eighteen years of 
agitation and civil war, before the ambition of the military and 
popular chieftains had expended its means, and the power was 
concentred in one man's hands. 

Shall we be told, the example of Brutus is a good one, 
because it will never cease to animate the race of tyrant-killers. 
But will the fancied usefulness of assassination overcome our 
instinctive sense of its horrour ? Is it to become a part of our 
political morals, that the chief of a state is to be stabbed or 
poisoned, whenever a fanatick, a malecontent, or a reformer 
shall rise up and call him a tyrant ? Then there would be as 
little calm in despotism as in liberty. 

But when has it happened, that the ^eath of a usurper has 
restored to the publick liberty its departed life ? Every suc- 
cessful usurpation creates many competitors for power, and they 
successively fall in the struggle. In all this agitation, liberty is 
without friends, without resources, and without hope. Blood 
enough, and the blood of tyrants too, was shed between the 
time of the wars of Marius and the death of Anthony, a 
period of about sixty years, to turn a common grist-mill ; yet 
the cause of the publick liberty continually grew more and 
more desperate. It is not by destroying tyrants, that we are 
to extinguish tyranny : nature is not thus to be exhausted of 
her power to produce them. The soil of a republick sprouts 
with the rankest fertility : it has been sown with dragon's 
teeth. To lessen the hopes of usurping demagogues, we 
must enlighten, animate, and combine the spirit of freemen ; 
we must fortify and guard the constitutional ramparts about 



CHARACTER OF BRUTUS. 301 

liberty. When its friends become indolent or disheartened, it 
is no longer of any impoi'tance how long-lived are its ene- 
mies : they will prove immortal. 

Nor will it avail to say, that the famous deed of Brutus 
will for ever check the audacity of tyrants. Of all passions 
fear is the most cruel. If new tyrants dread other Bruti, 
they will more naturally sooth their jealousy by persecutions, 
than by the practice of clemency or justice. They will say, 
the clemency of Cesar proved fatal to him. They will aug- 
ment their force and multiply their precautions ; and their 
habitual dread will degenerate into habitual cruelty. 

Have we not then a right to conclude, that the character 
of Brutus is greatly over-rated, and the fashionable approbation 
oj his example horribly corrupting and pernicious ? 



[ 302 3 



ON THE PKOSPECT 

OF , 

A NEW COALITION AGAINST FRANCE. 

First published in the Krpcrtorij, October, IE05. 

XT appears probable, that a new coalition is forming against 
France, and that Russia, Sweden, and Austria are in alliance 
with England. We are told, that a great body of Russians is 
moving through Poland, and will be ready to reinforce the 
Austrians in season to repel any attack, that the French usur- 
per, who is accustomed to strike before he threatens, may be 
expected to make upon the latter. The struggle for the recove- 
ry of Italy from the French is to be renewed ; and, instead of 
invading England, Buonaparte will have to contend once more 
for his crown. The neutrality, if not the co-operation of Prus- 
sia and Denmark, is foretold. 

It is natural, that the first indications of a powerful confede- 
racy against France should be interpreted to promise every 
thing to Englishmen, weary of the known weight, and dejected 
by the prospect of the unknown length, of the contest. Coali- 
tions ever promise much in their inception ; they usually dis- 
appoint all in their progress. A single power has generally 
proved an over-match for their arms. The honey-moon may, 
possibhj, last, till the allies have taken the field and fought the 
first battle ; but the good or bad fortune of that battle is almost 
sure to dissolve the ties of their mutual confidence, if not the 
bands of that aliicaice. If defeated, they throw the blame on 
one another ; if victorious, they are made envious and jealous 
by the allotment of the spoil. 

No doubt, Austria will be hearty in the cause, for she will 
fight for her life ; but her very fears may be skilfully used by 
Buonaparte to detach her from the confederacy. He may offer 
her some Turkish provinces ; he may yield other points of real 



NEW COALITION. 3Q3 

magnitude, that will give her a temporaiy security, oi* the shew 
of it, which she may deem preferable to a more hazardous 
obstinacy in the contest. 

This Austria may deem herself almost compelled to prefer, 
by an early discovery of the tardiness of the disposition of the 
Russiiin cabinet, and, perhaps, still more emphatically, by the 
detection of its immeasurable ambition. 

Russia has, probably, no fears of the French, and can have. 
no hopes of aggrandizement by wi'esting any thing from them. 
Russia will enter the lists, therefore, with very different views, 
and infinitely less ardour than Austria : she must engage in the 
war from calculation. It may offend her pride, that the French 
emperour plays the first part in Europe ; she may dread a 
great loss of consideration and political influence, unless she 
contends with him ; but her means for a long war are not con- 
siderable. It maybe said, that England is rich, and will supply 
the primary means. Large subsidies will, no doubt, invigo- 
rate and hasten the military operations ot this power ; it is, 
nevertheless, a great mistake, to suppose, that a prodigious 
expense will not be left, after all the English guineas are count- 
ed in St. Petersburg, to be defrayed by the Russian govern- 
ment. These are reasons, therefore, for a natural apprehension, 
that the efforts of the Russians will be made upon a less scale, 
and with less energy, and continued for a much shorter time, 
than any man will prescribe for effecting the only rational 
object of a continental war, a reduction of the colossal power 
of France. All independent nations must quake within sight 
and almost within touch of their fetters, till this is done. 

And, to do it surely^ more than one campaign is necessary. 
France will assuredly set her foot on the world's neck, if the 
force and the spirit do not exist somewhere, to face her in 
arms with a steadiness equal to her own ambition. England 
alone has that force and spirit ; a confederacy is a rope of 
sand, and will break to pieces, or, at least, manifest its total 
inefficiency, in a year. But, as soon as the English nation can 
be made to view the contest in its true light, and, what is ten 
times as much to the purpose, to feel it, as they see it, they 



304 NEW COALITIOiV. 

■will boldly rely on themselves, and cautiously ask or take 
assistance from their allies. For these allies, the Russians 
especially, may claim the partition of Turkey, in recompense 
of a longer perseverance. A dismembering ambition would 
quench all hope of tranquillity in Europe. It would also inevi- 
tably dissolve any coalition that could be formed. Neither 
Austria nor England would assent, much less assist, to confer 
universal empire on Russia. 

France has had time to consolidate her new empire. All 
that policy and violence, can do, has been done, and all that 
arms can do, will be done to maintain her acquisitions. To 
maintain them, is, probably, as much a national cause with the 
French, as it was with the Romans, to keep Hannibal out of 
Rome, after the battle of Cannse. French vanity will not, 
therefore, be subdued, it will be irritated and roused by 
national losses and by the disgrace of their arms. Buona- 
parte's own vanity, and that of his nation, would probably 
require, that England should be invaded, if the ripening of 
the expected coalition should not furnish, perhaps, the occa- 
sion, and, certainly, the excuse for the abandonment of that 
extravagant project. In this view of the matter, the coalition 
will prevent more good, than we can imagine it will ever 
achieve ; for of all the possibilities of a speedy remedy of the 
present enormous evils of Europe, by the reduction of the 
preponderant power of France, the only one that holds out 
any rational promise, is that of the invasion. Two hundred 
thousand men landed in England, and the winners of the first 
three or four battles, would certainly fall at last, and involve 
the imperial usurper in their fall. His boasted glory would 
sink even faster than his power. The enslaved nations would 
then make haste to break their chains. 

But supposing no invasion, which, in the event of a new 
coalition, is no longer to be supposed, it then becomes impos- 
sible even to conceive of any remedy, but a late and exceed- 
ingly gradual one. 

To Jight down gigantick France to her former size, so that 
other nations may again breathe in safety and independence,. 



NEW COALITION. 305 

can scarcely take less than half a century of prosperous war- 
fare. These mushroom products of accident, money, or in- 
trigue, these brittle, ephemeral coalitions are quite inade- 
quate to the end. While they last, they will cherish false 
hopes; and when they fail, they will engender groundless 
fears ; and for the next seven years may prevent the dis- 
covery, and delay the resort to the only effective resources of 
safety. For England alone, we repeat it, is pledged, is pin- 
ned, and nailed down to the combat. To sit and take blows 
is hard, but she still has the privilege, the precious, glorious 
privilege the Dutch, Swiss, and Italians have lost, of returning 
them. Every war brings its burdens and losses, but this war 
brings its terrours too, for it hazards, and will decide upon her 
life and honour. The decision cannot be evaded, the contest 
cannot even be intermitted, without her ruin. By eighteen 
months of treacherous peace, she suffered a greater reduction 
of comparative strength, than by eight years of war. Her war- 
like efforts for this whole century would not impoverish her ; a 
delusive calm, called peace, for three years, would put an end 
to her efforts for ever. She has men, she has courage, she 
has all the means of self-defence ; she wants only that over- 
powering impression upon her people, that time will make, 
though it is not yet made, to have the command of those 
means. She must rouse, as Carthage did in the third Punick 
war, but not so late. Her Foxes and her Burdetts will be silent, 
when the very rabble are convinced, that England cannot exist 
at all, unless the power of France be reduced ; that, as long as 
she contends for the reduction of that power, she enjoys both 
existence and glory. She is, therefore, to choose war, not as 
a state preferable to peace, but preferable to the ignominy of 
wearing French chains. When these ideas, unfortunately so 
well vouched by her situation, are admitted by all men m the 
nation, (and the time is coining, when they will be irresistible) 
every thing in England Avill become a weapon of war, and 
every man a soldier or sailor to wield it. The minister will 
have reason to rely on the abundance of resources, and, what 
is more to the purpose of the war, on the perseverance and 
39 



306 NEW COALTTION. 

patience of the publick. English spirit, thus roused, might 
laugh at mereenciry coalitions and French menaces. France 
can have no commerce ; and a nation of soldiers must thrive 
by spoil, and not by manufactures. If, to get fresh spoil, they 
enlarge the circle of their depredations, they rouse new ene- 
mies, and create more zealous coalitions than English guineas 
can buy. 

These opinions will, no doubt, seem extravagant to many 
persons ; but the evil of French domination is now of many 
years standing : it is not very rtitional to suppose, that a battle 
or a campaign is to cure it. There are many evils, which 
attend human life through the entire course of it. Perhaps it 
is mude, in wisdom, and in mercy too, by the great Ruler of 
the universe, the condition of an Englishman's life, that he 
shall spend the whole of it in fighting the French ; and if his 
sons and his grandsons should think liberty and independence 
intolerable on these terms, let them lie down in the dust, in 
the peace of slavery, and try to forget their honours and their 
ancestors. 



[307] 

THE COMBINED POWERS AND FRANCE, 

First pitblislied in tite Repertory, December, 1805. 

X H E power of France is so tremendously preponderant, 
that every friend to the liberty and independence of nations 
must wish too see it reduced. If the people of the United 
States desei've one half the praise they take to themselves for 
good sense, such must be their wish. Men's heads and hearts 
must be indeed strangely perverted, if they could have a spe- 
culative liking to behold one great tyrant set up over all other 
nations. To put it to the test, let them ask themselves, how 
they would incline, if the question now was, to set up a do- 
mestick tyrant over our own. Every lover of liberty and inde- 
pendence must, therefore, of necessity, be the enemy, as far 
as wishing goes, of the French arms in the present great 
contest. He will anxiously inquire, is the new coalition likely 
to reduce the French power i 

When he reads of three hundred thousand Austrians, two 
hundred thousand Russians, and perhaps fifty thousand Hes- 
sians assembling and marching against Buonaparte, he will be 
ready to exclaim, France cannot withstand such a force. For 
the first time, the odds of numbers is against her. To this 
array of armies we add the Swedes, the English, who are 
embarking, it is said, fifty thousand, the Austrians and Hun- 
garians, who may yet rise en masse to i^einforce their em- 
perour, and the immense body of Russians, who are kept 
ready to enter Germany and Italy. We very soon count up a 
million of men on jmfier^ and we feel the inspirations of the 
English printers' valour, who, already, consider Buonaparte as 
dethroned. 

Men's vnshes are great deceivers. France contains more 
millions of men, than Buonaparte can ever think fit to array 
in arms, and he can array as many of them as he may want ; 
and as he allows no trade, commerce, or profession, to impede, 



308 THE COMBINED POWERS 

or for one hour to delay his requisitions ; as France is nothing 
but military, and every man a soldier, whenever Buonaparte 
has occasion to call and make him such, it is the easiest thing 
in the world, for the French to outnumber their enemies in the 
field. Add to this, France is as near to Germany, as the greater 
part of the subjects of Austria, and more Germans will assist 
the French armies, than the armies of Austria. If distance 
only be considered, more Frenchmen can be brought to act in 
the field, than Austrians, Swedes, or Russians. 

Another consideration, of no little moment, is, that France 
is surrounded by states newly conquered from her enemies, 
whom she can squeeze, and even crush, without any danger of 
resistance. The weight of the war may be thrown upon the 
German circles on the left bank of the Rhine, newly annexed 
to France, upon Hanover and the German neutral electorates, 
upon Spain, Holland, Portugal, and Italy. It will be asked, 
will not this mode of overburdening the people, who are told 
of their honour and happiness in being annexed to France, 
render the French odious, unpopular, and weak in those coun- 
tries ? The answer is, the French people will see, that their 
own burdens are the lighter for their excessive weight on 
those wretched vassals. In the war, that ended in 1763, the 
great king of Prussia exacted every thing from conquered 
Saxony : he would not spare his enemies, because he wished 
to spare his subjects. In like manner, the French will use 
the blood, and sinews, and marrow of the Dutch, Hanove- 
rians, and Italians, as if they were oxen ; nor will they pro- 
voke resistance from those wretches, for two reasons ; they 
will be watchfully kept down by French soldiers ; and, again 
be it noted well, the French have not conquered any country, 
without raising to power the base and desperately wicked 
among the conquered people, who, of course, are interested 
and disposed to keep their fellow countrymen under the yoke 
of servitude. 

Thjjs, over and above the gigantick force of France itself, it 
is evident, the French can command prodigious resources of 
men, money, and every article of use in wai", from the late sub- 



AND FRANCE. 309 

jects of her enemies. She no sooner overpowers one enemy, 
than she uses and consumes his force in conquering another. 

If we consider the vast extent and unexhausted fertility of 
the French territory, including the dependencies of France, 
we cannot doubt, that means enough of every sort exist ; and, 
moreover, we can doubt as little, that the government is the 
most formidable despotism existing on the face of the earth, 
and can di-aw forth those means. Of men and Avarlike re- 
sources, then, France has enough. 

It is, perhaps, of the nature of despotism, to contract early 
infirmities. It is a giant, whose first energies are augmented, 
yet wasted by frenzy. It is a torrent from the hills, that nothing 
can resist ; yet it soon scoops for itself a channel, wide enough, 
indeed, to display its ravages, but deep enough to confine them. 
A tyrant cannot reign and oppress by his single force ; he nmst 
really interest, and interest prodigiously, a sufficient number 
of subordinate tyrants in the duration of his power. As he will 
select these, because he knows them to possess an extraordi- 
nary share of ability to serve him, these first appointments will 
give all imaginable efficacy to his authority. In reward for serv- 
ing him, he must allow them to serve themselves ; he must 
wink at their abuses and exactions. But after the lapse of one 
generation, these abuses become the inheritable rights of the 
first set of subordinate agents or their descendants ; the state 
is exhausted and consumed by abuses, which time has made 
inveterate, and which the new-made great have an interest in 
aggravating. The monster, despotism, whose youth was pass- 
ed in riot, is tl en crippled by the gout, and is equally disabled 
from enduring either labours or remedies. Nothing can be 
more certain, than that free states are the most capable of 
energy. 

But a youthful tyrant has a sort of preternatural strength, 
that is truly formidable — such is Buonaparte's. France has 
thrown off" the incumbrances of ranks and orders, of laws and, 
religion, and seemed to awake at once from the sleep of ages. 
Every thing that is genius has been roused, by seeing all that 
is alluring in power and wealth brought within its reach. All 



310 THE COMBINED POWERS 

France has teemed with ambition, like the earth in seed time. 
These circumstances have imparted to the French character, 
always highly susceptible, a most extraordinary energy. And 
if any persons, wedded to a favourite system, shall please to 
say, that, as the hope of liberty is now extinguished, the French 
are no longer ardent enthusiasts, but reluctant slaves, let them 
be told, that the ardour for glory remains, though the passion 
for liberty is no more. The people are now engaged in a more 
intelligible, and, be it added, a more enchanting pursuit. They 
believe, that they know how to beat their enemies ; and that 
they do not know how to prevent or remedy the oppressions 
of their rulers. It will be conceded, also, that the revolution 
has brought forward the ablest generals, and that Buonaparte 
has employed them. 

Admitting, then, that the French armies are numerous 
enough, that they are well commanded, and that the soldiers 
have the double advantage of strict discipline and actual service, 
it is not easy to discern the grounds, on which the English 
seem so confidently to rely, that the French will be beaten. 
The Austrians and Russians are, no doubt, good soldiers ; not 
better, however, than the French. It is to be feared, the coa- 
lition will be defeated in its first attempts.* The great distance 
of the Russian dominions, and the deficiency of pecuniary 
means scarcely allow us to expect, that Russia will persevere 
long, in a very unhopeful contest. Austria, without Russia, 
is certainly uncjual to the contest. It is probable, that much 
is expected from the first impression of the arms of the coa- 
lesced powers ; if that expectation should fail, we cannot see 
any motives Russia has for fighting on, campaign after cam- 
paign, in case France should hold out to resist. 

And is there the least reason to suppose, France will not hold 
out to resist many years ? The glory of France is the cause of 
all Frenchmen — pity it is, we pence-saving Americans had not 

* III justice to the writer oP tliese speoiilntions, it must be remarket!, that they were pen- 
ned at least ten days before the report anived of the capture ol'tl iriy thousand Austrians. 

Nutc of the 'Hewspaper Editor. 



AND FRANCE, 311 

ft small spice of their character. They will suffer much, and 
attempt every thing, sooner than permit their enemies to 
triumph over them : defeats, by irritating their vanity, will 
rouse their spirit. 

We shall be told in reply, it is only the splendour of success, 
that attaches the French to the fortune of Buonaparte. But 
they are really, in their inmost souls, proud of that success. 
Besides, let it be remembered, every thing that is now exalted 
in France would be brought low again, by the return of the 
Bourbons : there is nothing left in church or state, that is not the 
work of the revolution. The Bourbons might pardon rebels 
and usurpers ; but could they employ them all, or trust any of 
them ? Could they refuse to employ, or trust the emigrant 
nobility, who have borne exile and poverty with them ? Yet 
this must be refused, or the nobles and princes of the new 
order of things must step down again to the democratick floor. 
Probably a million of active high-spirited men in France, now 
in some office, would hazard life, and, perhaps, scorn it as a con- 
dition of disgrace, sooner than restore the Bourbons. 

Where, then, is the reason to suppose, that France will not 
make eftbrts, endure reverses, and even create another tyrant, 
in case Buonaparte should fall in battle, or die in his bed ? 
Where is the country in Europe, that has so little to fear from 
division within, as France ? as France, we say, still smarting 
with the sense, and, in case of Buonaparte's death, ready to 
quake with the dread, of the curse of civil war ? 

The French despotism, we gresftly fear, will prove a Colos- 
sus of iron, which this coalition will be unable to hew down 
with the sword, or to lift from its place. Another revolution, 
like an earthquake, might break its limbs ; and time will slowly 
corrode it with rust : in fifty years it may be still hateful to its 
neighbours, and dreadful only to Frenchmen. We have not 
the most to hope from the powers, that are nearest its own 
size ; but from that, which has the capacity to maintain_ the 
longest resistance : we mean England. For the reasons we 
have before assigned, it is our belief, the French despotism will 
never be more formidable than it is now : if it should not finish 



312 THE COMBINED POWERS 

its conquering work, while Buonaparte lives, it will never be 
finished. This is clear, if it cannot conquer England, it will 
not conquer the world. Thus we are brought to the question, 
so perpetually recurring to our anxiety, so awfully interesting 
to every civilized nation in the world, will France be able to 
conquer Kngland? 

It is commonly said, if the British navy did not protect that 
island, it would be certainly conquered. This is no part of our 
creed. A state containing fifteen or sixteen millions of souls 
is not to be con'^fiiered, unless the government is of a sort to 
breed factions, and one of them joins the foreign enemy to 
ensU.ve the state. There is every appearance, that the French 
faction in England, which in the beginning of the revolution 
was so clamorous and formidable, is now equally destitute of 
pretext, and of means of mischief. If the British channel 
should be filled with gravel, and raked, and hardened, like a 
turnpike, the English would become more military, and have 
to fight many desperate battles for their liberty, which, thovigh 
they should loose those battles, they would ultimately preserve. 
Certainly, there is no want of physical force, no deficiency of 
courage to maintain it, even if the coast of Brittany touched the 
coast of Essex. 

With these opinions it follows, that the threatened invasion 
was one of the most desirable events : it afforded the only 
certain and near prospect of the disgrace and overthrow of the 
French power. If the coalition really hindered the invasion, 
it has done England an injury, which it will never repair. But, 
as the attempt was long delayed, and the conduct of Austria 
and Russia was so ostentatiously complained of for hindering 
its execution, there is great reason to believe, tliere was no 
serious intention to make it. 

Great Britain, now, can expect no such hopeful oppor- 
tunity to cripple her adversary, as long as the coalition lasts : 
her hopes are rested on the military operations of the coalesced 
powers. This is one of the serious evils of that coalition. 
Englishmen are, unhappily, made to depend on the efforts of 
Russians and Austrians, which we apprehend (and we have 
taken some pains to explain the grounds of our apprehensions) 



AND FRANCE. 313 

will ultimately fail of their object. They depend too much on 
others, too little on themselves. Should Russia find some 
ambitious reasons for deserting the alliance, Austria must be- 
come a vassal of France. England must then face her adver- 
sary alone, with his insolence and means augmented, and weari- 
ness and despair pervading every English heart. Then, per- 
haps, she would think herself obliged to make peace. Thus 
the tired traveller, benumbed with cold, grows drowsy and sits 
down to rest — ihe sleeps, to wake no more. England would be 
more certainly ruined by peace, than Buonaparte by the inva- 
sion. If, instead of using her arms, she trusts a second time 
to her enemy's moderation, he will never permit her to resume 
them. A peace by England, after the defeat of the new coali- 
tion, will give to France, an unlimited command of means of 
eveiy sort. The Persian kings did not encourage commerce, 
but the Phoenicians, Rhodians, and people of Cyprus did, and, 
of course, the king of Persia could command the sea. Tribu- 
tary Europe would furnish treasure to build fleets ; and the 
whole coast from the Baltick to the Adriatick would supply 
seamen. We Americans are already advised to interdict the 
manufactures of England ; and France will oblige every other 
country to do it. While the war lasts, necessity is stronger 
than even French despotism : all Europe, and even France 
herself, consumes British goods ; but peace would restore to 
Buonaparte the power to shut all the ports of Europe against 
England. 

What, then, are we to think of the coalition, as it affects 
England, but that it will deceive her hopes and aggravate her 
embarrassments ? Standing alone, and depending solely on her- 
self, she is invincible. It is in her power without any material 
diminution of her wealth, and with a diminished hazard of her 
safety, to fight France, till French despotism becomes wasted 
with its vices and decrepid with age ; till it loses much of its 
impetuosity, and employs half its force in quelling insurrec- 
tions ; till the legion of honour shall create one emperour, the 
army of the Rhine a second, and the army of Italy a third. 
40 



[ 314 3 

THK SUCCESSES OF BUONAPARTE. 

rint piibiished in the Rcpertorij, Marc/i, 1806. 



T, 



H E rapid and decisive successes of Buonaparte have infla- 
ted the ignorant rabble of our democrats with admiration, and 
filled every reflecting mind with astonishment and terrour. 
The means, that most men deemed adequate to the reduction 
. of his power, have failed of their effect, and have gone to swell 
the Colossal mass that oppresses Europe : his foes are become 
his satellites. Austria, the German states, Prussia, Naples, 
and perhaps Sweden, seem to have been fated, like comets, to 
a shock with the sun, not to thrust him from his orb, but to 
supply his waste of elemental fire. Buonaparte not only sees 
the prowess of Europe at his feet, but all its force and treasure 
in his hands. We except Russia and England. But Russia 
is one of those comets on its excursion into the void regions 
of space, and is already dim in the political sky ; England pas- 
ses, like Mercury, a dark spot over the sun's disk ; and to Buon- 
aparte himself, she seems, like the moon, to intercept his 
rays. He cannot endure to see her so near his splendour, 
without being dazzled or consumed by it. 

He wants nothing but the British navy, to realize the most 
extravagant schemes of his ambition. A war, that should 
give him possession of it, or a peace, like the last, that should 
humble England, and withdraw her navy fi'om any further 
opposition to his arms, would give the civilized world a mas- 
ter. All the French, and, of course, all our lotjal democrats 
have affected to treat that apprehension as chimerical. Yet 
who, even among those whom faction has made blind, could 
refuse to see, that the transfer of the British navy to France, 
would irreversibly fix the long-depending destiny of mankind, 
to bear the weight and ignominy of a ncAv Roman domi- 
nation. 

We may say the aggravated weight, for Rome preserved 
her morals, till she had achieved her conquests ; France be- 



EUOXAPARTE'S SUCCESSES. 315 

^ins her career, as deeply corrupt as Rome ended it. The 
Roman republick, after having grown to a gigantick stature 
from its soundness, rotted when it died ; but that of France, 
surviving the principles, and at length the name of a repub- 
lick, has drawn aliment from disease, and we of this genera- 
tion have seen it crawl, like some portentous serpent from a 
tomb, glistening and bloated with venom from its loathsome 
banquet. France has owed the progress of her arms to the 
prevalence of her vices. These were the causes of the revo- 
lution ; and the revolution has, in turn, made these the instru- 
ments of French aggrandizement. By the persecution of all * 
that was virtue, the leaders gave encouragement to all that 
was vice ; and, thus, they not only acquired the power to spend 
the nation's last shilling, but imparted to the rabble all the 
ardour of enthusiasm, and all the energies, that the love of 
novelty, of plunder, and of vengeance could inspire. The 
means they commanded .vere not such as arise from the just 
and orderly government of a state, but from its dissolution. 
The priests, the rich, and the nobles, were offered as human 
sacrifices on the altar of the revolution, and still more emphati- 
cally of French ambition. 

Thus I'rance, like Polypheme in his cave, grew fat with 
carnage. Other states could not, without submitting to a like 
revolution, oppose her with enual arms. So far from it, they 
found, that all those, whom vice and want had made the ene- 
mies of the laws of their country, were banded together as the 
friends of France. 

Thus it was, that the French armies no sooner entered 
Italy, than they arrayed in arms an Italian rabble, to hold all 
those, who had any thing to lose, in fear and inactivity, till 
they could be regularly plundered. The leaders of this rab- 
ble were invested Avith the mock dignities of the Cisalpine 
government. The like was done in Holland and Switzer- 
land. 

The new yoke, therefore, which the abject nations are so 
near taking on their necks, cannot be light. That France 
may rule excvy where, the worst of men must be permitted 



oie BUONAPARTE'S SUCCESSES. 

every where to rule in the worst of ways. The Roman yoke 
■was iron, and it crushed, as well as wearied the provinces ; 
but the domination of culprits and outlaws, claiming much for 
themselves, and exacting more for their masters in France, 
will place the people between the upper and the nether mill- 
stone. 

If the miserable dupes of France, so loijal to the commands 
of her envoy, can wish destruction to the British navy, and 
can really tliink American liberty the safer for its future 
tenure by the good pleasure of Buonaparte, such men are cer- 
tainly fitter subjects for medicine than argument : where such 
sentiments do not spring from the rottenness of the heart, 
they must escape through some crack in the brain. 

There was a time, when the infatuation in favour of France 
was a popular malady. If that time has so far passed over, 
that men can either think or feel as Americans ought, it must 
be apparent, that Buonaparte wants but little, and is enraged 
that he so long Avants that little, to be the world's master. 
Yet, at this awful crisis, when the British navy alone prevents 
his final success, Ave of the United States come forward, with 
an ostentation of hostility to England, to annoy her with non- 
intercourse laws. Are we determined to leave nothing to 
chance, but to volunteer our industry in forging our chains ? 



C sir ] 



DANGEROUS POWER OF FRANCE, N°. I. 

First publu-!ici! in the Repciiorij, Mm/, 18C6. 

A HE political sky has seldom remained long unclouded; 
but it may be doubted, whether it was ever charged with a 
blacker tempest, than that we have lately seen burst upon Eu- 
rope. France has accomplished, in twelve yccirs, as much as 
Rome did in five hundred. The Samnites, who occupied a 
little province, that is now a part of the kingdom of Naples, 
resisted the Roman arms for half a century ; and it was not till 
after four and twenty Roman triumphs, and twice that number 
of pitched battles, that they were siibdued. 

King Pyrrhus landed in Italy too late, after the Samnites 
had lost their spirit no less than their force. He proved an 
enemy worthy of Roman discipline and courage, yet he was 
unsuccessful. 

The Romans, after five hundred years of incessant war with 
the petty nations around them, at length aspired to extend 
their dominion beyond the bounds of Italy. First Sicily and 
then Spain were disputed, in arms, with the Carthaginians. 
Fifty years were passed in battles and alarms, before this great 
controversy was decided in favour of Rome. 

When Carthage had fallen, Greece, the mistress of Rome 
in arts, her I'ival in arms and renovvn, fell an almost unresist- 
ing prey to Roman ambition. She fell with all her confederated 
republicks, as ours ivill certainly fall., if France should continue 
to wield our factions, and our factions to dispose of our govern- 
ment ; for factions in a democracy arc sincere only in their 
hatred and fear of each other. Whether the Jeffersons and 
Madisons stand or fall, our rulers can have no patriotism. 
Their emulation is too fierce, and their objects of ambition too 
fugitive, and too personal, to allow them to take the views, still 
less to cherish the sentiments of statesmen. Old Rome had 



318 UANGEROUS POWER 

patriots, but who would expect to find them in the amphi- 
theatre among the gladiators ? Those who love power, will 
seek it in the contests of party. The lovers of their country- 
will be found, nursing their griefs and their despair, among 
the discarded disciples of Washington. To return from this 
seeming digression, Rome availed herself of the divisions of 
the Grecian republicks to subjugate them all. Affecting a 
zeal for their liberty, she offered her alliance ; and the allies of 
Rome, like those of France, were her slaves. The Greeks 
joyfully aided Rome to conquer Macedonia ; and Philip, the 
Macedonian king, was employed against Antiochus, called the 
great, the Syrian monarch. Egypt was too base to make any 
resistance, but submitted to tribute,, as quietly as we do. 

Thus, every independent republick and powerful prince fell 
a prey to Rome. Beyond the Euphrates, the Parthians, at 
length, formed a mighty empire, which the distance and the 
deserts rendered, like the modern Russia, inaccessible to the 
Roman arms. It was remarkable, that Rome seldom had more 
than one enemy to fight at a time : they fell in succession ; 
and their servitude was concealed, though it was embittered 
by the title of allies. 

France has achieved her purpose — the struggles of liberty 
are over ; and the continental nations of Europe are now sleep- 
ing in their chains. 

If France possessed the British navy, those chains would be 
adamant, which no human force could break. French tyranny, 
like the great dragon, would have wings, and the remotest 
regions of the civilized world would be near enough to catch 
pestilence from his breath. "Vet we are infatuated enough to 
think America a hiding place for liberty, where her assassins 
Avill not seek her life ; or an impregnable fortress that would 
protect it. 

On what reasonable foundation do these presumptuous ex- 
pectations rest ? \Vhen France is master of both land and sea, 
will distance preserve us ? With eight hundred ships in the 
department of the Thames, distance v/ould be. nothing to Buo- 
naparte. Fie could transport an army of sixty thousand men 



OF FRANCE. 319 

to occupy New-York, which could not make one hour's resist- 
ance. He could transport them with more expedition and ease, 
than Mr. Jefferson could assemble our standing army of 
two regiments from the frontiers, to oppose them. Yet this 
ttanding armtj, so potent to command the types, the exclama- 
tions, and the silly fears of the democrats, though it assisted as 
a bug-bear to make Mr. Jefferson president, would no better 
protect his house, at Monticello, from a French squadron of 
horse, than the army of the imperial Virginia formerly defend- 
ed its assembly from colonel Tarleton. 

But our myriads of militia might defy the world in arms. 
Excellent hopes these 1 When Austria, in vain, opposes two 
hundred thousand veterans to the progress of Buonaparte ; 
when Russia is repelled in the pitched battle of Austerlitz ; 
when Prussia, with its armies complete in numbers and dis- 
cipline, stands still, not daring to stir, and waiting to acknow- 
ledge Buonaparte conqueror ; or, to come more plainly to the 
point, when we see half a million of English volunteers, as for- 
midable and as stiff", ui buckram, as it is in the power of tailors to 
make uniforms, parading the coasts of Sussex, Essex, and Kent, 
and yet trusting only to the vigilance of the British navy to hinder 
the French from crossing the channel ; surely, when we see 
these things, we must be imwilling to reflect, or utterly incapa- 
ble of reflection, if we can suppose, that the array of the militia 
in the secretary's office would transplant fear from Mr. Jeffer- 
son's bosom into Buonaparte's. 

To say nothing of the improbability of the militia's obeying 
the call for actual service, or, if they should appear promptly 
and in sufficient numbers, of the impossibility of detaining 
them in service long enough to make their arms of the least 
imaginable use, direful experience has at length instructed 
nations, that, when they are in danger, they are to be preserved 
from it by their real soldiers. These are made, not in a tailor's 
shop, by facing blue cloth with I'ed or yellow, but by learning 
in the field that subordination of 7nind, that will make men do, 
and insure their doing all that men possibly can do. 



320 DANGEROUS POWER 

Old Rome did not out-numbev her enemies. Two legions, 
eacii of less than six thousand men, and as many of the Latin 
or other Italian allies made a complete consular army. Such 
an army routed the numberless forces of Mithridates and An- 
tiochus. It cost the Romans more exertions to svibdue Perseus, 
king of Macedon, than to concjuer all the East : his phalanx, of 
sixteen thousand men, was harder to break than all the millions 
of militia of the other successors of Alexander. Rome, by the 
perfection of her discipline, became mistress of the world. 

Would Buonapirte calculate on the vigour of our govern- 
ment, as an insuperable obstacle to his military attempt on the 
United States ? Would the congress majority, like a Roman 
senate, create means and employ them, with a spirit that would 
prefer death to servitude or tribute ? The French Hannibal, 
surely, with our fifteen millions of tribute money already in 
his treasury, would have no discouraging fear of this sort. 
When he reads our treaty with Tripoli, by which it appears, 
that we chose tribute, when victory was within our reach ; when 
he sees that the bey of Tunis presumes to say, by his minis- 
ter at Washington, pay or fight, what can Buonaparte conclude, 
but that honour is a name, and in America an empty one ; and 
that our national spirit can never be roused to a higher pitch, 
than to make a calcvdation. With us honour is a coin, whose 
very baseness confines it at home for a currency. Such a peo- 
ple, he will say, are degraded, before they are subdued. They 
are too abject to be classed or employed among my martial 
slaves. Let them toil to feed their masters, and to replenish 
my treasury with tribute. 

Is there a spirit in our people, that would supply the want 
of it in our rulers ? Our total unprepai'edness, both by land and 
sea, to make even the shew of resistance against an attack, is, 
certainly, not from the want of military m^ans in the United 
States, but from a dread of the loss of popularity, if they should 
call them forth. 

Why is it unpopular? Because the progress of French 
domination is not seen at all, or is seen with a fatal compla- 
cency ; because we love our money better than our country; 



OF FRANCE. 321 

because we enjoy our ease almost as much as we love our 
money; and because, by shutting our eyes to our publick 
clangers, we escape the insupportable terrour of their approach, 
and the toils of an efficient preparation to resist; them. 

It is a thing incomprehensible, that even the childish bab- 
ble of the Chronicle is not dumb. Admitting the stupidity, 
admitting the baseness of the democi'ats, yet, without admit- 
ting that they are both stupid and base in a miraculous degree, 
it is unaccountable, that they should not see, in the victories of 
Buonaparte, the stride, and almost feel the gripe of a master. 
If a storm should sink, or a fire-ship burn the British navy, 
we should feel that gripe in a month : general Turreau Avould 
quietly exercise all the authorities at Washington. Consider- 
ing how tamely we give up our millions, while that navy still 
renders America inaccessible to France, is any man alive so 
absurd as to suppose, that our subjugation to French despotism 
would cost the great nation a single flask of powder ? Take 
away the British navy, or give it to France, and we free Ame- 
ricans, so valiant of tongue, tie up in our stalls, as tamely as 
our oxen. The pen of Talleyrand v/ould be found a sharper 
weapon than general ***'s sword. It is preposterous to suppose, 
that a military resistance to France would be attempted. Her 
faction in this country would revive the clubs and the maxims 
of 1794; and Genet would again summon the enemies of 
British injluence to rally under his banner. We should be 
called the allies of Fi'ance, and our loyal addresses would ac- 
company our tribute to conciliate the friendship of the great 
nation, and to claim a share in its glories. The men, who 
could be nothing without France, would be invested with the 
titles and powers of magistracy ; and property would be made 
to shift hands, till it rested with those, who would be really 
interested to support France, that France might support them 
in keeping it. Thus, she would avoid the odium of a violent 
revolution, and yet would reap all the advantage of it, to rivet 
our dependence on her power. The distance of the Roman 
provinces, at length, favoured their emancipation from her 
41 



• 



322 DANGEROUS POWER 

yoke ; but Vvith'the sole possession of a navy, the trans-Atlantick 
provinces of France would not be distant. 

WfTH these irrefragable proofs of the fatal certainty, with 
which the power of France would reach us, and of the unre- 
sisting tameness, with which we should endure it, if France 
should ruin the British naval power, what comments shall we 
make on the sense or spirit of the non -importation project of 
congress, which, though ineffectual for its purpose, is intended 
to impair the force and resources of that navy? How deep 
and considerate will be our scorn and execration of the Arm- 
strongs, and Livingstons, and Munroes, who, to make their 
flattery welcome to a tyrant's ear, have blended it with Ameri- 
can invectives against that navy. We seem to be emulous of 
the spirit of slavery, before we descend to its condition; as if 
we were resolved to merit their contempt, by an earlier ckjm, 
and even by a juster title, than their yoke ; for, as long as the 
British navy may triumph, that yoke is not inevitable. 

The most successful way to prevent our servitude, is faith- 
fully to expose our dangers. So far as our fate may depend 
on our wisdom or our choice, it is proper to call the attention 
of our citizens to the fact, that Buonaparte, though he has 
done much, has done it in vain, unless he can do one thing 
more. Give him the British navy, and he will govern the 
United States as absolutely, and, certainly, with as little mercy, 
as if our territory were a French department, and actually lay 
between the Seine and the Loire. Let our scribblers, then, 
extol the long-foreseeing wisdom of the Jeffersonian adminis- 
tration. Let them boast of their devotechiess to the cause of 
the people. The man, whose chief merit is grounded on his 
having penned the declaration of independence, has done more 
than any other man living to undo it. He has made conven- 
tions to pour the fulness of our treasury into the coffers of 
Buonaparte ; he has dictated laws in aid of, and to carry into 
effect, French authority over the blacks of St. Domingo — a 
degree of servile condescension beneath the independent spirit 
of those blacks ; and now his minions in congress have begim 
a wai'fare against the British trade, as if, without our own 



OF FRANCE. 323 

active co-operation to cripple the maritime resources of Eng- 
land, Buonaparte might meet with too great obstruction and 
delay in subverting the independence and liberty of our 
country. 

If we love our countiy as we ought, we cannot but wish, 
that the con'iuered nations of Europe may break their chains ; 
we cannot but wish, that Great Britain may courageously and 
triumphantly maintain her independence against France. But 
on this point what are we to expect ? A military opposition on 
the continent of Europe has proved unavailing. Will France, 
now mistress of the land, become mistress of the sea also, 
and establish her iron domination over the civilized world ? 
This is a question of life or death to American independence, 
and the awful decision is near. 



DANGEROUS POWER OF FRANCE. 

N^. II. 

IT is a subject of fearful curiosity, to inquire into the causes^ 
which have so rapidly conducted France to the conquest of the 
continental part of Europe. By carefully tracing their opera- 
tion, we may be the better enabled to calculate the chances of 
her triumph over England, and, of necessary consequence, 
over America. 

It was a long time the fashion, to ascribe French victories 
to the republican fanaticism of her citizens. When France 
ceased to be republican in name, and it was only in name that 
she ever was republican, the superiour personal bravery of the 
French soldiers, and the superiour genius of Buonaparte were 
deemed to be the two adequate causes of her triumphs. 

Theke is, probably, little ground for these opinions ; or the 
influence of these causes is much over-rated. The body of 
Araerican democrats are, no doubt, the greatest political 
bigots in the universe : they are accustomed to believe, that 



324 DANGEROUS POWER 

no tenets can be true or wise, but their own. That all power 
is derived from the people, and should be exercised for their 
benefit, is a principle, of which . they fancy the world was 
ignorant, till it was discovered in the course of our revolution. 
Considering themselves the sole depositaries of political truth ; 
having in their hands her casket, where she keeps liberty, the 
most precious of her jewels, they think our country is entitled 
to be not a little vain of the office. They feel, too, as if all 
patriotick merit consists in propagating their principles through 
the world with a rage of proselytism. They would rejoice, if 
not only France, but the grand Turk, and the dey of Algiers 
should gather their unlettered rabble into primary assemblies, 
and make them swear, with all the zeal and sincerity of opium 
and brandy, to maintain the rights of man with their daggers 
and their pikes. 

Accordingly, when France said, and sung, and swore the 
words of their republican creed, they were sure the grovelling 
world was very near being hoisted from its centre : it would 
be launched into the sky, and glitter among the brightest of 
the stars. The reign of perfectibility was beginning : nian, so 
long a reptile, trodden in the mire, was rising to over-top the 
tallest of the seraphs. Their teeming fancies had made a 
creation of their own, and lighted it with a new sunshine. 
Above all things, it delighted their hearts, and seemed to 
realize all their hopes, to see the low vulgar, the squalid hosts 
of vice and ignonuice, issue from the opening cellars of the 
Fauxbourg of St. Antoine, and from the jails, to exercise the 
sovereignty of the jieojiU'^ by a signal vengeance on the magis- 
trates, their enemies. They were sure the structure of society 
must have risen, when they saw its low foundations already 
higher than its roof. It was not long, before this rabble army 
was arrayed as a body of Marseilles patriots, and as a part of 
the national guards. The splendid virtues of France were 
attributed to the exalted heroism of these men, who, it was 
said, fought well, not because they Avere soldiers, but because 
they were citizens. More than a million of the grown people 
of America believed, that the liberty -loving passion of French- 



OF PRANCE. 325 

men made them aii overmatch for the disciplined mercenaries 
of Austria and Prussia ; and that the citizens were the better 
for their ignorance of discipline. The French generals were 
not the dupes of our silly opinions : they drilled and punished 
their citizens, till they would stand fire and push bayonet ; and 
if they would not, they shot them. 

The notion, that the political opinions of the common men 
will make them any better soldiers, is strangely absurd : they 
are more likely to effect a mutiny, than a triumph. Men may 
fancy they are soldiers ; but they are not really such, until dis- 
cipline and habit have new-moulded their thoughts and incli- 
nations. The reviews of peaceable tradesmen are no more, 
than the solemn foppery of a pantomime, acted in the open air, 
instead of the theatre. We would not be understood to say, 
that the miiitia has not both its merit and its use— both, we 
confess, are great ; but we do say, that their proper use is not 
to face a veteran enemy. It is, indeed, very possible, that poli- 
tical enthusiasm, as well as religious fanaticism, may inspire 
a sudden fury into the bosoms of a raw, undisciplined multi- 
tude ; but a veteran corps would, surely, defeat such a multi- 
tude. 

If the inhabitants of France ever felt the republican enthu- 
siasm, which is, indeed, very questionable, there is not much 
reason to believe, that it contributed to fill the ranks of their 
own army, or to make those of their enemy give way. Expe- 
rience, which brings plausible theories to the test, and a cori'ect 
knowledge of human nature, have abundantly confuted the 
notion, that the common men are the better soldiers for the 
soundness of their logick or their politicks. Men are very 
much alike, in all the European countries, in respect to their 
capacity of being trained for war. When so trained, the dif- 
ference between two hostile armies, of equal numbers, will 
be found to lie in the talents of their subaltern officers and prin- 
cipal commanders. 

CoMMox soldiers ai-e soon trained ; but it is the work of art 
and time, to form officers. There is not the least reason in 
the world to suppose, that the Austrians or Russians are infe- 



326 DANGEROUS POWER 

riour to the French soldiers in steady, persevering valour ; 
but there is ample evidence of the superiority of the French 
officers over those of their enemies. War has become, indeed 
it ever was, among civilized nations, a scinice. It excites and 
employs the utmost vigour and extent of human intellect. 
Though it is a science, it is such only for the officers, not for 
the common men. For two centuries past, France has devoted 
more attention and more money to the perfection of this science, 
than all the rest of Europe. Louis XIV. established such 
military schools, as the great Cyrus would have desired for the 
education of the officers of that army, that achieved for him 
the conquest of Asia. Buonaparte and Moreau, both undoubt- 
edly great generals, ai'e indebted for their triumphs to these 
schools. It is often said, the common men will dare to do, 
whatever their officers will lead them on to do. It is no less 
pi'oper to say, the officers will seldom flinch from leading the 
men, if they but know how to lead them. 

Nothing is more certain, than that the military institutions 
of France supplied the first revolutionary armies with an infi- 
nite mmiber of accomplished young officers, who glowed with 
impatience to gain glory and promotion in that profession, 
which had, from their infancy, engrossed their thoughts and 
kindled all their passions. The revolution furnished only 
sparks, and not the fuel for their combustion. 

Nor is there the least reason to pretend, that the first French 
armies were composed of raw recruits. An immense standing 
army was maintained : and when it is considered, that, on the 
side of the Low Countries, and* on the Rhine, France guarded 
what has been emphatically called her iron frontier, with a 
double row of fortified towns, and that every one of these was 
occupied by a veteran garrison, that would figure as a respec- 
table American army, we see plainly, that France possessed 
every advan]tage for success in war, from the very first day of 
her military operations. 

The democrats, to a man, believe, that France was entirely 
defenceless, when the " coalition of desp.ots" seci'etly entered 
into the treaties of Pilnitz and Pavia for her dismemberment. 



OP FRANCE. 327 

Those treaties, it has been a thousand times proved, are forge- 
ries. Austria was taken by surprise : the emperour Joseph 
had levelled the ramparts of his towns in the Netherlands, 
Luxembourg excepted ; and his troops in that country were no 
more than a feeble corps of observation. The Austrians had 
a larger proportion of I'aw recruits in their armies, than the 
French. 

Be it remembei'ed, too, that the revolution supplied the 
French with an unexhausted superfluity of men and means, 
that no regular government in the world could countervail. 
That man must be strangely disordered in mind, who can now 
look back on French aff'airs,.and say, that the revolutionary 
leaders, possessing such means, left any option to the govern- 
ments of England or Austria to remain at peace. As well 
might they say, when a Avhole street is burning, that a man, 
by sitting calm in his elbow chair, might save his house from 
the flames. The English government, in particular, was near 
the scene, and could not see the revolution, like Etna, vomit 
fire, without some natural fears and some prudent measures 
of precaution. Who is now ignorant, that Brissot, and Ban-as, 
and Danton, and Robespiere Avould choose to understand those 
fears and those precautions, as signs of the inveterate hostility 
of kings to the French liberty. If the English could have 
shunned the war in February 1793, it would have been forced 
upon them before June. 

It is childish prattle, to charge the enemies of France with 
the commencement of the war. The nature of the revolution 
was war against mankind. Its vital principle was a burning 
passion for power, within the state ; and, when they had gained 
that^ to establish by arms the pov^'er of France over every other 
state. Why is the vulture carnivorous ? Why does not the 
tiger of Bengal eat grass? We might, with as much good 
sense, inquire, why does not the torrent stay upon the hills ? 
Why are the collected waters of the revolutionary storm pre- 
cipitated from the height of the Alps, to desolate the plains, 
and to bury men, and their laboiu's, under masses of barrenness 
and ruin ? 



32S DANGEROUS POWER 

The military means of Austria were stinted ; those of France 
unlimited. In almost every battle the French had the advan- 
tage. The officers, even the subalterns, had been educated so 
as to qualify them to be generals ; the generals were fit for 
nothing else : they understood their trade, and aspired to no 
other sort of distinction. The French, always well commanded 
by their officers, well supplied by their enemies counti'ies, 
which they ravaged, have i-apidly overrun all Europe. 

Another cause of the French superiority, and which has 
gi'own out of the real superiority of their military science, is to 
be found in the excellence of their artillery. The number, 
and the manageableness of the French field artillery, must have 
given them a decisive advantage over the Russians in the late 
battle of Austerlitz. It is not to be supposed, that the Russians 
have equally improved their artillery ; nor, if they had, would 
they have encumbered their march of eight hundred leagues, 
especially when they had so inany reasons for haste, with an 
imiTiense train of field pieces. They would be the less dis- 
posed to do this, as the Austrians must have been relied 
upon to supply them in sufficient number. The French by 
the celerity of their movements had, howevei', obtained pos- 
session of a great part of the Austrian artillery. The deficiency 
of the Russians in this point, was probably a material cause of 
their loss of the battle. 

When gun-powder and great guns were first brought into 
use, they were more capable of striking an enemy with a 
panick, than of breaking his line : the cannon were unwieldy 
machines, and the management of them was unskilful. Still 
the army which had them, must have possessed a great ad- 
vantage over that which had none. In the time of the famous 
duke of Marlborough, the event of a battle depended on the 
cxpertness and resolution of infantry in discharging their mus- 
kets. In still more modern wars, the bayonet has been consi- 
dered the arbiter of victoiy. But the French have introduced 
another revolution in the science of war, the lightness and 
prodigious number of their horse artillery enabling them to 
disorder and break an enemy's ranks, without coming to close 



OF FRANCE. 329 

fight, by raining upon them an intolerable tempest of grape- 
shot. 

By means of their innumerable field pieces, and of their 
unusual proportion of cavalry, it has become impossible for 
their enemy to defend a country by lines of field intrenchment. 
It has been stated, that Buonaparte's grand army was attended 
by fifty thousand horse. Such a body, always on the alert, 
could strike an enemy at almost any distance, and in every 
mortal part at once. If he contracted his posts, his fianks 
would be turned ; if he spread out his troops to prevent it, his 
lines would be forced. By resisting, he met his fate ; and if 
he retreated, it was swift and overtook him. 

Thus we have seen the French maintain the same invaria- 
ble superiority over the Austrians, and lately over the Rus- 
sians, in the field, that the Spaniards possessed over the Mexi- 
cans. The Russians and Austrians are as brave as the P'rench ; 
but the French are really superiour in the science of their 
officers, in the number and management of their cannon, and 
in their cavalry. They will continue, therefore, to beat their 
enemies, as the Romans did. Even the Grecian phalanx, sup- 
posed to be the perfection of military science, and absolutely 
invincible, was found unequal to the contest with the Roman 
legion. 

The French victories have happened in such a series, that 
we cannot rationally suppose them to happen by chance. They 
are the inevitable results of superiour nuriibers, and of the 
French military advantages we have mentioned. They would 
happen again, if their dejected, beaten adversaries could rise 
again to resistance. 

From these positions this melancholy inference is to be 
drawn : the continental enemies of France are totally incapable 
of resisting her in the field : she has taken a permanent ascen- 
dant over them. Austria, humbled and beaten, is in no condi- 
tion to learn the conquering art of her masters. Prussia, 
without risking the combat, has fallen prostrate with her use- 
less arms in her hands. Russia, like the ancient Parthia, is 
invincible, but insignificant to the system of enslaved Europe. 
42 



330 DANGEROUS POWER 

If the French armies could pass the channel, there seems 
to be no sort of reason to hope, that Great Britam could resist 
them. The regular army is spread over all the empire, and, 
if it were all collected, it would be a handful against the French 
hosts ; and, surely, no military man would place the smallest 
dependence on the volunteers of England. 

It is one of the inveterate, perhaps incurable evils of Mr. 
Pitt's administration, and the greatest blemish in the fame of 
that truly illustrious statesman, that, instead of forming an 
efficient army of two hundred thousand men, who could be sent 
wherever they might be wanted, he was either the schemer 
or the dupe of the useless, expensive, and, if the French should 
land in England, fatal project of volunteers. By equipping 
volunteers, he not only had no army, but it was out of the power 
of England to have one. The men were all engaged in acting 
the comedy of an army ; and the finances were exhausted in 
getting uji the decorations of the piece. 

The sole protection of Great Britain, then, is in her navy. 
The writer has been brought very late, and loath, to believe, 
that the military resistance of the continental nations of Europe 
would be ineffectual. Events have, at last, convinced him, 
that the French actually possess a greater and more decisive 
military superiority over those nations, than the old Romans 
did over the forces of Antiochus, Mithridates, and Jugurtha ; 
and, especially, over the Carthaginians, Greeks, and Mace- 
donians. Nothing is wanting to the solid establishment of a 
new universal empire by France, that should spread as far, 
last as long, and press as heavily on the necks of the abject 
nations, as that of Rome, but the possession of the British navy. 
France, whenever she can get access to her enemy, is already 
irresistible. If Mr. Gregg would give her that navy, he would 
impart a kind of ubiquity to her power. The soft winds, that 
wake the spring in the remotest regions of the globe, would 
waft there the ministers of French rapacity to blast it. France 
Avould enjoy every thing that Rome wanted, to make the plun- 
dered world her province. 



OF PIIANCE. 331 

AuE these ideas chimerical ? or are the inferences drawn 
beyond the admitted truth of the premises ? Is India more 
capable of resisting France, than an English merchant com- 
pany, its present sovereign ? Spain and Italy are provinces 
already. Greece, Egypt, the Turkish empire, and all the 
shores of the Mediterranean were once the patrimony of the 
Cesars, and for many hundred years slept soundly in their 
chains, till they were rudely waked by the Goths, the Hcruli, 
the Huns, and the Arabs. Africa is a quarter of the globe, 
that could be governed by factories ; and America is another, 
that would yield, not merely with tameness, but alacrity to im- 
perial rescripts. If, by miracle, force should be needed, France 
could employ Spain, or Dessalines, or slaves still more abject 
than they, to use it with infallible success. We should be 
ready, not merely to take, but to buy our chains, and to pay 
our last dollar as a fine for the temerity of our resistance. Wc 
should patiently sow our fields, and see our kindly seasons 
ripen the harvest for French reapers. Our posterity, born in 
servitude, would inherit our baseness, and bear the yoke from 
the infancy to the old age of their dishonoured lives, Avithout 
sorrow or repining. 

Suppose the whip of the oppressor should, at length, tear off 
the callous skin from the slaves' backs, and rage should be 
kindled by pain, and courage engendered by despair ; yet our 
resistance would only avail to exasperate our tyrants, and to 
embitter the sense and aggravate the pressure of our calami- 
ties. France would not fail to array an army of base Ameri- 
cans, and to place them in the strongest positions of our 
country ; and, if these should be insufficient to crush the first 
movements of rebellion^ her ships would transport reinforce- 
ments from Europe with greater celerity, than the American 
insurgents could collect and train forces to resist them. Our 
independence, then must be renounced, or we must betake 
ourselves to the fastnesses of the wilderness to enjoy it, like 
the revolted negroes of St. Domingo, in peril, want, and bar- 
barism. 



332 DANGEROUS POWER 

The preservation of even this condition would, then, appear 
to exact and merit the display of all our energies. Comfort- 
less and desperate, as that savage independence may seem, it 
would nevertheless be preferable to the horrid stillness of our 
servitude under the power of Ffench tyrants, exercised by 
their deputies, the Jeffersons and Nicholsons, the present arti- 
ficers of our ruin. 

It is very seldom, that the events of war turn out according 
to the predictions of specuiatists on their probabilities. Futu- 
rity is, no doubt, wisely and mercifully hidden from our view. 
Yet the issue of the contest between France and Great Britain 
is so momentous to America, it is impossible to restrain our 
curiosity from examining the position and relative strength of 
the combatants. 

Gbant that Great Britain possesses adecjuate means to 
cope with France, it is an interesting previous question to 
decide, or rather to conjecture, whether there is a spirit in 
her government and people to persevere in the employment 
of them. 

The death of Mr. Pitt has made a complete change in the 
ministry. He discerned, and it is strange that Mr. Fox, his 
supposed equal in talents, should not have discerned, the ne- 
cessity of opposing Fi'ance in arms, and the fatal consequences 
of a delusive peace ; and any peace, that should leave France 
a giant among pigmies, would,be delusive. But, as Mr. Fox 
has been the opposer of the war, ever since 1793, and as he 
and a large number of his most strenuous adherents are admit- 
ted to power, it may be expected, that he will insist on propos- 
ing a negotiation. Proud as Buonaparte is, he would joyfully 
accept the proposal. He may be as liberal as Englishmen can 
ask in his terms, for any peace will make him their master. 
Nothing could make it safe, but that France should reduce 
her power. That is a condition Mr. Fox will not prescribe, 
nor Buonaparte concede. 
' We will not undertake to say, that Mr. Fox is bound in 
point of consistency, now, to propose peace. He may say 
Avith plausibility, perhaps with strict truth, that the circum- 



OP FRANCE. o33 

stances of the two countries are changed; that he was a friend 
to peace, while Europe stood independent and powerful in 
arms to secure the observance of it by the French emperour ; 
but that now peace would lessen none of the burdens of the 
nation, while it would put its commercial and naval resources, 
inaccessible in war, within reach of the power and intrigues 
of Buonaparte. 

What is Mr. Fox's present opinion or disposition, we 
know not. We have no hesitation in saying, that, as a faithful 
member of his majesty's counsels, it is his duty to prosecute 
the war, till England can be safe in peace ; and she cannot be 
safe, unless she is great in comparison with France. 

Are there not prbbable grounds of conjecture, that Mr. Fox 
came into the ministry, on the terms of supporting the v/ar 
measures of the government. Before the peace of Amiens, 
the fruitless negotiation, at Lisle, had opened the eyes of the 
English nation to the immeasurable ambition and profligacy of 
the French rulers. Mr. Fox then persisted in condemning the 
war. After the peace of Amiens, he paid a visit to Buonaparte-, 
in Paris, and received and permitted such attention from the 
French chief, as raised the wonder and disgust of all men, and 
the suspicions of many. His motives for making that visit 
have never yet been explained. 

This is certam, his parliamentary influence had surprisingly 
dwindled ; and, perhaps, he owes it as much to his frank, open 
disposition, so unused to, and incapable of duplicity, as to his 
splendid talents, that the nation, with its characteristick gene- 
rosity, has been willing to forget and forgive his strange visit 
and strange conduct in Paris. 

There is reason to believe, that, when Mr. Pitt last came 
into office, the English king had neither forgiven nor forgotten 
it. He considered Mr. Fox as a jacobin, and resolved to deny 
the importunities of both parties to admit Mr. Fox to his coun- 
sels. Lord Grenville thought himself bound, in consequence, 
to stand with Mr. Fox, and to decline office. 

When the death of Mr. Pitt and the desertion of the allies 
in Germany seemed to force Mr. Fox upon the king, for all 



334 DANGEROUS POWER 

men agreed it was necessary to drop party divisions, and to 
unite against the common danger, we are told, lord Grenville 
was closetted with his majesty, and finally arranged the minis- 
try to mutual Satisfaction. As lord Grenville is an honest man, 
and as able as he is honest, we cannot believe such a man 
would recommend a iacobin to the king, or that he could pre- 
vail over his majesty's aversion to Mr. Fox, without being 
personally responsible for his conduct and principles. 

When it is considered, also, that those two eminent men 
formerly acted in opposition to each other, cUid that, for three 
years past, they have come to a mutual good understanding, 
the grounds of division in the present ministry must have been 
fully explored, and such engagements mutually required and 
given, as will prevent their collision. Those who had always 
acted together, before they came into the ministry, we think 
more likely to fall out afterwards. 

The union of the present ministry is the more probable, too, 
when we advert to the known sincerity and amiable temper 
of Mr. Fox. The attachment of no man's friends has been 
stronger, than Mr. Fox's have ever manifested towards him ; 
and those who remember his famous coalition with lord North, 
will believe, that too much stubbornness to maintain the appear- 
ance of consistency, is not one of that gentleman's faults. 

Mr. Fox is the only member of the new administration, who 
can be the champion of peace nieasurcs. Lord Grenville and 
Mr. Windham love their country too well, and its dangers are 
too imminent to permit us to believe, that they are disposed, 
to adopt the fatal counsels of the old opposition. 

On these grounds, therefore, we presume to conjecture, that 
the English ministry will be united in favour of a prosecution 
of the war. 

We have not yet inquired, whether there is sense and mag- 
nanimity enough in the nation, to support the ministry in such 
a resolution. The nation, no doubt, is weary of the war, and 
staggers under the weight of its burdens ; but peace can 
scarcely cheat the blind multitude with the delusive hope of a 
respite from those burdens. A vigorous and able opposition 



OF FRANCE, 3.35 

to war in parliament, might afford aliment to the popular 
discontent ; but the men, who used to lead that opposition, are 
now in the ministry. They may say, they did not choose, and 
have not made the war ; their predecessors, whom they were 
accustomed to oppose, left it a sad necessity on their hands. 

Besides, peace has once been tried, and proved not only 
delusive, but almost fatal : Buonaparte gained more territory 
in peace than in war ; and England voluntarily gave up her 
conquests, except Malta, Trinidad, and Ceylon. Such another 
peace would ruin her. 

Under these circumstances, it may be expected, that eveix 
the populace will see, that the continuance of the war is the 
hard, but inevitable, condition of English liberty and indepen- 
dence. If we are not deceived in these speculations, the Bri- 
tish ministry and nation will concur in pursuing the war. 
With what hope of ultimate success they will pursue it, is a 
more difficult problem. 



DANGEROUS POWER OF FRANCE. 

N°. m. 

THE sufficiency of the British finances to supply the enor- 
mous expenditures of the war, is usually the first inquiry. We 
cannot, however, refrain from remarking, that the bankruptcy 
of the French government has been incessantly expected to 
prove the boundary of the French power. It has happened, 
on the contrary, that power has made its own resources. No 
government, certainly no* arbitrary government, will sit still 
and die for want of means, when they are to be found within 
its grasp : it will put forth the hand of violent injustice, and 
reach them. The rulers of France found wealth enough 
within and without, and they have never hesitated to use it. 
Their armies flourished, while their artisans starved, and 
their fanners desponded. The decline of all employments 



336 DANGEROUS POWER 

but that of arms, so far from stopping the course of their vic- 
tories, materially contributed to accelerate it. 

The free government of England is less disposed and less 
qualified for these extremes ; but it will not be equally under 
the necessity of resorting to them. The wealth of individuals 
is incalculable, and the machinery of the English laws and 
government for extracting it in loans and taxes, witli some 
degree of equality, and without popular opposition, is, proba- 
bly, ade([uate to a great annual augmentation. We forbear to 
say, what is the utmost that machinery could effect. An 
lU'gent publick necessity, so palpable as to confound all doubts 
and cavils, we should conceive, would enable government to 
draw from the people larger supplies, by equal laws, than 
could be obtained by arbitrary violence. It is, however, we 
confess, a frightful prospect for an honest English minister, 
that he must spend, for the publick defence, more than he 
can raise by taxes. Hitherto, we believe, he has not been 
able to produce by his ways and means more than thirty five 
or forty millions sterling, nor to bring his expenditures under 
seventy. 

In this extremity, some men have asked, whether the gov- 
ernment ought not, without further hesitation, to sponge off 
their national debt. The jacobin members of our administra- 
tion will wonder, why they have delayed it so long. The 
English government would long trust and painfully try the 
publick spirit of the nation, rather than destroy the debt. We 
have men in power, among us, who would sooner destroy 
any debt, publick or private, than hazard their popularity ; 
nay more, they would sponge off |ill debts for its sake ; but, 
in England, nothing short of dire necessity will bring the 
rulers to touch the property, that has so long been confided to 
the safeguard of the publick faith and morals ; nor will they, 
of choice, witWiold a penny of the interest. 

It is true, necessity, though it is the tyrant's plea, is a suffi- 
cient one, when it exists, for the best government. There is 
no reasoning against necessity ; but when there is any reason- 
ing about its existence, it is manifest that it does not exist : it. 



1 



OF FRANCE. 237 

not only makes its own lav/-, but its own evidence. It comes 
like the fire, or flood, or pestilence, and renders doubt as 
much impossible as resistance. 

Admitting, then, the sufflciency of the plea of necessity to 
vindicate the withholding of the interest of the British national 
debt from the publick creditors, the fact, that such necessity ex- 
ists, is still to be made out. We have already said, this sober 
argumentative making oitt of a necessity is inadmissible; 
Thoug-h it is better the national debt should perish than the 
nation, still it is no less true, that the sponging off the national 
debt is a measure of violence, which needs all the justification 
that an irresistible necessity can afford. Necessity is a law 
that makes all other laws silent. It would vindicate the stop- 
page of the interest of the national debt — lit is equally mani- 
fest, that nothing short of actual necessity will justify such 
an act. 

Now, while the English government is in the regular course 
of paying the interest, and it is only inconvenient to proceed 
in that course, because new expenses arise, and it is an un- 
popular task to provide taxes to supply them, it is absolutely a 
relinquishment of the plea of necessity, to pretend, that the 
government is forced to stop the interest. 

We know so little of the difficulties of the English govern- 
ment and nation, because we feel none of them, that it is not a 
little hazardous for any American speculatist to decide upon 
the proper degree of boldness, with which they should impose 
taxes, or the measure of ability or patience of the subjects to 
pay them. Nevertheless, we should imagine, and we pre- 
sume to hope it is the case, that, by new arrangements of the 
land tax, by the assessed taxes, by improvements in the mode 
of collection of the imposts, and by a reform of the all-con- 
suming poor rates, the publick revenue may be even yet con- 
siderably augmented. The power to tax, no doubt, has its lim- 
its; and when a government has multiplied its taxes till it 
has reached those limits, a new imposition will only give a 
new form to the publick I'eceipts, without adding to their 
amount. We may be mistaken, but we sincerely hope it will 
43 



338 DANGET?OUS POWER 

prove, that the wealth of the Englis)i subjects is abundantly 
adequate to all the enormous expenditures of this necessary- 
war. The time, we believe, has come to justify all practica- 
ble reforms of expenditure and improvements of the revenue, 
rather than a resort to violent and arbitrary remedies of any 
sort ; especially such as sponging off the debt. 

For it can scarcely escape remark, that Great Britain has 
been, from the first, contending against revolutionary princi- 
ples. How can Great Britain, the champion of faith, and law, 
and order, with consistency or advantage, adopt, as a remedy, 
the very measure that is the first badge and sure foreiunner 
of the evil ? 

For what is revolution ? what is its favourite work, but first, 
and with most malignant ardour, to destroy what faith, and 
law, and morals, have established and guarded ? The English 
debt of six hundred millions sterling is spread all over the 
kingdom : it has taken root for a century. To pluck that 
root from the soil, we believe, would shake the security of all 
property ; and, in the event, it might possibly subvert the 
monarchy. 

When the convenience of relieving the nation from this 
mountain of debt, is once admitted, where will the govern- 
ment stop ? Will not the progress be, as in France, to make 
one convenient sacrifice a precedent and argument for another ? 
The clergy will stand next, on the black list ; the nobles will 
follow. Will the 7nany continue patient under the pressure of 
taxes, when the plunder of the/ew is so familiar a substitute ? 
In a revolution, as in a shipwreck, one part of the crew is kept 
alive by eating the other. 

The national debt is, in fact, private property. We cannot 
see, why the publick should seize and appropriate to itself that 
description of private property, rather than the ships in the 
Thames, or the goods in Bond street. The seizure may be 
less unpopular, and may be more surely carried into effect, 
than the capture of the ships or goods ; but we cannot see, 
that the plea of necessity will better justify the act in one 
case than the other. Indeed, the preference seems to be due 



OF FRANCE. 339 

to the property in the funds, as the government has solemnly 
renounced its power of control over it, and chosen to stand in 
no other relation to the owner of stock, than as an equal con- 
tracting party. 

To those, however, who may consider this last idea a mere 
refinement, too flimsy to be examined or regarded, when the 
existence of a nation is at stake, another reflection may be 
suggested. 

Many persons may be led, by their abhorrence of jacobin- 
ism and of French tyranny, to think favourably of sponging off 
the tremendous mass of English debt, which cripples all their 
exertions in the war. England, once free from this mill-stone, 
they imagine, would be in no danger of sinking. The useful- 
ness of such an act of injustice tolerably well reconciles them 
to its principle. 

The most successful answer to the measure will be, to ques- 
tion its utility. The whole taxes fall far short of the expendi- 
tures of the nation. Suppose the debt sponged off, and all the 
products of the present taxes applied to necessary expenses, 
how shall the deficiency be made up ? By new loans ? Shall 
the British chancellor of the exchequer, with the sponge in 
one hand, hold out a subscription paper in the other ? Who 
would lend ? or escape the mad house, if he did ? If loans could 
be obtained, a new national debt would be scored up, at the 
rate of thirty five or forty millions a year ; and, as soon as the 
size of the debt had begun to terrify some by its effect to 
cripple the energies of the government, and to tire others by 
the pressure of taxes, it must be sponged off again. Be it 
remembered, the violent remedies of great evils are, almost 
always, aggravations of those evils. If the minister, unable or 
unwilling to borrow, should raise taxes within the year, equal 
to the expenditures of war, what becomes of the plea of 
necessity ? 

On the whole, is it not right, that the property of a nation 
should defend its liberty ? and is this to be done to the extent 
that the publick safety may require, unless the government 



340 DANGEROUS POWER 

can obtain loans in its necessity, that it will provide for in its 
prosperity ? A great publick debt is, no doubt, a great evil ; but 
the loss of liberty and independence is one infinitely greater. It 
is some alleviation of that evil, for any government (for all are 
prone enough to become corrupt) habitually to guide its mea- 
sures and its counsels, by the experience, that its good faith is 
its good policy. It ought to make men better, to contemplate the 
example of a state, tried, and tempted by adversity, and groan- 
ing under the load of taxes, yet still faithful to its engagements, 
and enjoying an ample resource in the confidence of its cre- 
ditors, by deserving their confidence and keeping their pro- 
perty sacred from violation. Such a state gives an illustrious 
lesson of morality to its subjects. It fulfils the great duty of 
all governments, which is to protect property. This is not 
all. It will seem, to some practical men, still more to the pur- 
pose, that such a state will have the control, in the extreme 
exigencies of the publick affairs, of the last shilling of private 
property. Such is the spectacle of the British government. 

It is" left to others to compute, how essential a part of the 
national wealth consists of property in the national debt, and how 
much poorer the nation would be by sponging it off. Such a 
measure would aggravate necessity ; but we cannot conceive 
how it would supply means. As this violation of the publick 
faith would be the most tremendous, as also the most unequal 
and unfair tax, that ever was levied on a state, it is natural to 
suppose, the dread of it and the dread of the enemy would 
sanction other very strong measures to get at the wealth of the 
subjects by taxes, and that they would cheerfully acquiesce, at 
least, in their temporary adoption. 

It is, therefore, v. e confess, beyond our comprehension, how 
the stoppage of the interest of the publick debt, in other words 
the sponge, for such it would prove, could relieve the dis- 
tresses of Great Britain, or supply the resources for the prose- 
cution- of the war. It might ensure an English revolution. 
The work of destruction may be begun by choice, but it never 
stops while there is any thing left to destroy. Its hostility 



OF FRANCE. 341 

would be felt by the British government, and derided by that 
of France. 

We know not how the British ministry can find money for 
their enormous charges; but, neA^ertheless, we believe they 
will find it, because it exists, and enough of it, in the hands of 
the opulent subjects of that monarchy. 

We believe, too, they justly dread the terrible and incalcula- 
ble evils of a bankruptcy, and that they will find means to avoid 
it. If a sense of common danger ever unites men, the British 
nation will be united ; and if united and wisely governed, we 
hope they will prove unconquerable. 

Admitting, then, that Great Britain will not be forced to 
submit to peace, which is to submit to the yoke of France, 
from the failure of her finances, it remains to inquire, how 
long and with what prospect of success she can pursue the war. 

It does not appear, that she could not prosper irv commerce 
and private wealth, if the war should last half a century ; and 
to those who fear the war may last for ever, and therefore seem 
to think a bad peace ought to be chosen now, vmless some 
definite time or some precise object could be proposed, as the 
end of the war, it is a sufficient answer to say, that war is a hard 
condition of national existence, but preferable to their sub- 
jugation by France. Base are Englishmen, unlike their an- 
cestors, if they would not sooner toil for taxes to support the 
war, or bleed on a ship's deck, than sweat under the dominion 
of a Fi'ench prefect. Perhaps we may wonder at their ideas ; 
but Englishmen will dread ignominij more than taxes or wounds. 

While the British navy continues mistress of the seas, it 
is scarcely possible, that Buonaparte should execute his threat 
of an invasion. If, then, the English cannot make war on' the 
land, nor the French on the sea, it would seem that military 
operations and military spirit must languish. There is reason 
to fear, that this state of defensive languor will engender dis- 
content in England. But though the expenses might be di- 
minished, if Britain should have no allies, and should fit out no 
expeditions, they would still be enormous. When the fashion- 
' able folly of the volunteer army shall be no longer in vogue. 



^ 



342 DANGEROUS POWER 

an efficient and large regular army would enable Great Britain 
to strike her enemy in many vulnerable points. She ought 
to provide such an army, on which alone she couW depend to 
expel the French, if they should ever land on the island. The 
distant colonies of France are vulnerable, and would yield to an 
attack. The employment of the forces would cherish the 
military spirit of her subjects ; and conquests are among the 
best expedients to preserve harmony and union in the nation. 

A SOLICITUDE about the ability of Great Britain to resist 
France, will be understood by some of the weak, and will be 
misrepresented by all the base and unprincipled, as implying 
a desire, that the United States, in respect to maritime rights 
and national dignity, should lie at the mercy of the mistress of 
the ocean. On the contrary ; let every real American patriot 
insist, that our government should place the nation on its pro- 
per footing, as a naval power. With a million tons of mer- 
chant shipping, and a hvuidred thousand seamen, equally brave 
and expert, it is the fault of a poor-spirited administration, that 
we are insignificant and despised. It is their fault, that our 
harbours are blockaded, by three British ships, and that out- 
rages are perpetrated within the waters that form part of our 
jurisdiction, such as no circumstances can justify. Can there 
exist a stronger proof, that our insignificance is to be ascribed 
to a bad administration, than this single fact : with the greatest 
merchant marine in the world, except one, and, of consequence, 
capable of being soon the second naval power, (in our own 
seas, the first,) we are utterly helpless : that, in the opinion 
even of our rulers themselves, our only mode of redress, when 
our commerce is obstructed, is to destroy our commerce ! ! 
We have the means for its protection, which our adminis- 
tration, unhappily, think it would prove more expensive to 
use, than its protection would be worth. They would provide 
against the violation of our territory by tribute, and of our com- 
merce by non-imjiortation. 

W HiLE, therefore, we explicitly disclaim all apology for 
the abuses of the British naval power ; while we strongly re- 
probate the cowardice, or folly, or both, that leaves our country 



OF FRANCE. 343 

defenceless, when it is injured, we must view it as an interest- 
ing inquiry, whether England can resist France ; for, if she 
can not^ it is certain ive shall not. 

What could France do, to annoy Great Britain? Nothing; 
but to create expense to her government. What could Great 
Britain do, to annoy France ? Much ; enough to make the dis- 
tress of war reach her subjects ; to cut off nearly all her mari- 
time trade ; and to spread want, discontent, and despair from 
the Baltick to the Adriatick. 

The colonies of the enemies of Great Britain would shrivel, 
like plants and flowers on the Arabian desert, if they were no 
longer moistened by the rills of commerce. We may assist 
our conjectures of what Great Britain may do, by asking our- 
selves, what we shovdd do, in such a case, if we possessed (he 
British navij, and were contending, as she is, for liberty and 
life against France. 



344 ] 



NON-INTERCOURSE ACT. 

First piiljlh/ied in the Sepeiionj, Augii-it, 1800. 

V^UR anti-commercial rulers seem to think, still, that the 
non-intercourse act will bring Gre;it Britain to terms. Some- 
time in December, the gun, which congress primed and loaded, 
must go off, unless John Bull, who is so notoriously alVtiid of 
a gun, shall, before the day fixed for his fate, turn from the 
crrour of his ways, and by repentance obtain Mr. Jefferson's 
mercy. 

No one will deny the great importance of this subject ; or 
that the question in respect to our maritime rights, which ive 
have decided so much off-hand, may possibly have two sides 
to it ; that Great Britain contests our doctrine, and believes, 
or affects to believe, her admission of it would be fatal to her 
naval greatness and independence. When, therefore, she is 
so loath and so much afraid to yield the point, it seems as if 
her finally yielding must depend on her being still more afraid 
of our resentment, than of eveiy other ill consequence. 

The matter will, of course, undergo examination in England, 
how nauch reason she 1i|ls to be afraid of us ; and if our resent- 
ment shall appear to be of two evils the greatest, we, Avho lay 
national honour out of the account, are naturally enough ready 
to expect she will humble herself in the dust before Mr. 
Monroe, to avert our wrath, that " distant thunder," which the 
National Intelligencer so distinctly heard in December last. 

But that typographical thunder, which was expected to 
shake the plates and porringers .on the shelves at St. James's, 
has been muffled on this side of the Atlantick. Our publick 
will not break its nap on the apprehension of Mr. Wright's, 
or Mr. Gregg's, or Mr. Nicholson's breaking the peace with 
Great Britain. Nothing can exceed our apathy. Whether it 
be, that wc are a stupid people, or that we feel to excess and 
to frenzy, as party men, so that, as patriots, we feel and fear 



NON-INTERCOURvSE ACT. 345 

nothing ; or that our mortified pride takes some delight in 
blustering and threatening Great Britain, while France empties 
her vessels of honour on our heads ; or that evils in prospect 
for the next year have no terrours to the politicians, who never 
look so far ; whatever it may be owing to, the fact is, we 
behave on the question, whether we shall have any trade, even 
more strangely careless than the Dutch do, in respect to the 
matter of having a French king or a republick. It seems as 
if our rulers had reason to be bold, when they are preparing 
to make us suffer, by our defiance of their power to make us 
think — Says Moses to the vicar, " the corpse can't take 
cold." Our indifference may not be a shield of defence, but 
it is opium against our dread of blows. 

If our indifference did not surpass belief, the subject would 
have been long ago eagerly discussed. We should have scru- 
tinized, much more closely than Mr. Nicholson is capable of 
doing, the grounds of our assumed opinion, that Gi-eat Britain 
has such great reason to be afraid ot us ; and, probably, we should 
have found occasion to suspect, that party has deceived our 
expectations on this question, as on almost every other. Every 
body knows, that Mr. Jefferson dare not go to war : the fede- 
ralists are the only enemies whom he ventui'es to defy ; and 
even their accusations are not to be encountered in close light. 
He cannot fight Spain withou first asking leave of France ; 
of course, a Spanish war is out of the question. 

To fight Great Britain, is equally so ; yet, as great coiiiplaint 
is made of captures, and as Buonaparte will be soothed by a 
shew of hostility against England, the shciv is resolved upon. 
But be it noted, the shew may lead to the thing itself! He begins 
to bully. Great Britain scorns to yield to his paper bullets. 
New acts must be passed, still more angry than Nicholson's. 
Popular rage grows out of commercial distress, and war fol- 
lows. If this course be only foreseen, will Mr. Jefferson's 
admirers stick to him ? Certainly not. 

The federalists say, and really believe, that Mr. Nicholson's 
act is a feeble measure. Suppose, on trial, it proves feeble^ 
44 



346 NON-INTERCOURSE ACT. 

what is to be done ? Is some new act to be passed, that will not 
be feeble ? What act, short of war or reprisuls, can it be ? 

Wise nations, foreseeing the ordinary progress of such 
hostile acts, will stop short, and compute their force, before 
they resort to them. Pride and passion once up, interest 
weighs little ; and our threats will raise either British resent- 
ment or contempt. If we put them on their mettle, they will, 
no doubt, shew how little they regard their commercial profits, 
even if we could seriously diminish them. Mr. Nicholson's 
act is avowedly of the nature of compulsion ; and we know 
how the attempt at compulsion will affect a government, which, 
we choose to say, has, at least, as much pride as power. 

If any body in America cared about the consequences of 
this commercial warfare, which does not seem to be the case, 
it would be proper to point out the futility of the system adopt- 
ed by our Solomon in council. The two countries are, no 
doubt, in a condition to do each other a good deal of harm. 
We forbear to enter at length on the inquiry, which can do 
the most. Let our Southern wiseacres consider carefully what 
would be the consequence, if Great Britain, in retaliation for 
Mr. Nicholson's act, should prohibit, after December next, the 
importation into Great Britain of American rice, cotton, and 
tobacco. They will, no doubt, say, these articles are a mono- 
poly ; they cannot get them elsewhere. It is easy to say so— 
but is it true ? Bluster, gentlemen, but, before it be too late, 
try likewise to think. 



[ 347 ] 

LESSONS FROM HISTORY. 

N°. I. 

First puhllshed in the Hepertonj, October, 1806. 

V/HARLES II, king of Great Britain, was secretly a catho- 
lick ; and his subjects were, ninety nine out of a hundred, pro- 
testants. He was fond of arbitrary power ; and his people 
passionately fond of liberty. The times required a close appli- 
cation to publick business ; and his temper drove him head- 
long into licentious pleasures. His revenue had narrow limits ; 
and his prodigality no limits at all. 

He was one of the most pleasant gentlemen in England, 
and as much of a scholar, as our Mr. Jefferson, though less 
of a pedant, and a quidnunc. Yet, after being possessed of 
unbounded popularity, he lost it all, and deserved to lose it, 
because in every thing, as a king, he acted in the meanest 
subserviency to his prejudices and pleasures as a man. 

Accordingly, through his whole disgraceful reign, the 
English nation suffered much, and apprehended every thing, 
from his corrupt and treacherous policy ; treacherous, be- 
cause he pursued an interest of his own, separate from the 
general interest. Indeed, that nation still suffers from his 
misconduct. For Charles basely accdjited a pension from 
Louis XIV. the Buonaparte of the seventeenth century, in 
consideration of which he not only forbore to act against the 
schemes of universal empire, that Louis XIV. had then begun 
to pursue, but he hindered the parliament from disturbing the 
conquering career of France : nay, to the astonishment of all 
Europe, he joined Louis in attacking the Dutch. It was then 
in the power of England to have prevented the aggrandize- 
ment of France ; and such was the desire of the English par- 
liament and nation, such was their true policy. 

By neglecting that opportunity, oceans of blood have since 
been shed in vain. In 1672, the renewal of the triple alliance, 
negotiated by sir William Temple, would have confined 



348 LESSONS FROM HISTORY. 

France to her ancient limits, probably without a war. But, 
though it would have been easy to prevent her from growing 
great, it has proved hard, indeed impossible, after she had 
become great, to reduce her to her former size. The errours 
of 1672 are visited on the heads of Englishmen in 1806. 

Every democrat will exchiim, kings are base creatures, 
who have no interest in the good of the people. This vile 
example is not to our purpose. 

A KING can be nothing else but a king : when he loses his 
throne, he cannot expect to preserve his life. But a magis- 
trate chosen to play the part of a king for four years, may have, 
and, if he feels a low ambition, will certainly think he has, an 
interest as a man, very little connected with the temporary 
splendour of his office. He is to the JuU as unwilling to be 
dethroned, as any other king ; and, therefore, he will think 
much of the popularity, that will secure his re-election at the 
end of four years, and very little of the publick evils, that will 
lie hidden from the eyes of the people for the next seven. 

It would be childish, to think a demagogue will be a disin- 
terested patriot. It would be absurd, to expect that any body, 
but a patriot of the loftiest elevation of soul, would prefer the 
publick to himself, and would turn himself out of office by 
doing thankless and unpopular acts of duty. 

A DEMAGOGUE, then, if, for the punishment of the sins of 
our nation, any fuiure president should prove to be such, would 
certainly dismantle our ships, and leave the forts of our har- 
bours to crumble into ruins. He would disband our feeble 
regular regiments, and make haste to repeal taxes, that he 
may grow rich in popularity, while the government is ostenta- 
tiously made to decline in resources. He will bluster to shew 
the spirit, that he does not possess ; and pay tribute to hide 
the insults and wrongs, that he dare not revenge. In this 
way, his own shame will be exposed three or four years the 
later ; and the publick evils will happen, at last, with all the 
aggravation that improvidence and folly can bring. 

We make no comparisons — we leave the reader to apply 
facts, as he may think them applicable. But, we must con- 



LESSONS FROM HISTORY. 349 

fess, the spirit of paity has found our countrymen base, or has 
made them so, if they can behold the all-conquering progress 
of French ambition, and then think, with any temper, that our 
country has not only been left, but for five years artificially 
and systematically made, defenceless, as if it was intended for 
a prey. 



LESSONS FROM HISTORY. 

N°. n. 

THE Stuart family kept possession of the English throne 
from 1603, when queen Elizabeth died, to 1688, when James 
II. abdicated the govemment, a period of eighty five years. 
Though not very bad men, they were bad kings. Their 
notions of government wei'e such as have been since called 
tory. They were sincere in their principles of arbitrary power, 
which were, no doubt, utterly inconsistent with English lib- 
erty. We would not be understood to justify all the conduct 
of the parliament against Charles I. nevertheless, we hold 
the English in grateful respect for their spirit and good sense, 
by which they nobly asserted their own liberty, the ever-gio- 
rious, fundamental principles of which our ancestors, God 
bless their memory ! brought over to New-England. 

But the ambition and hypocrisy of the parliamentary lead- 
ers, and the tyranny which inevitably grew out of their demo- 
cracy, produced an abhorrence of levelling notions, and an 
attachment to the church and monarchy, which gave rise, or, 
at least, credit a,nd currency to the doctrines of passive obedi- 
ence and non-resistance ; doctrines subversive of all liberty. 

Hence it was, that, when the infatuation of James II. had 
assisted William, prince of Orange, to dethrone him, (and 
the folly of James did more towards it than the arms of Wil- 
liam) the English parliament cautiously and timidly admitted 
the principles of the revolution. To unmake kings, seemed 
to them a work, that might be repeated successively Avith less 
and less necessity, and at length licentiousness, such as fol- 



550 LESSONS FROIM HISTORY. 

lowed the beheading of Charles I. would ensue. When, theve- 
fore, queen Mary, wife of king William and daughter of the 
exiled king James, died, William remained king by no right 
of blood, but only by virtue of an act of parliament, which might 
be repealed by any change of the majority. In this perilous 
stdte of tilings, men's minds were agitated with the fears of a 
renewal of those bloody dissensions, which the contest for the 
crown, between the rival houses of York and Lancaster, had 
engendered and protracted for more than a century. 

At length king William died, and also his rival king James ; 
and Anne, another daughter of king James, succeeded to the 
crown, according to the act of parliament. The death of the 
duke of Gloucester, the only child of Anne, happened before 
the death of king William ; and, as there was no hope of her 
having more children, men began to turn their eyes to her 
brother, the pretender, so called. He was an infant, when the 
bigotry of his father, king James, obliged him to take refuge 
in the court of Louis XI V . It seemed, therefore, to many lovers 
of their country, a needless and a merciless persecution of this 
young prince, to visit his father's follies on his innocent head, 
and to prefer the princess Sophia of Hanover, one of the most 
distant relations of the royal family, to the pretender, who, in 
right of blood, was heir to the British crown. Yet the whig 
party got the famous Act of Settlement passed in favour of the 
princess Sophia, by virtue of which king George III. now holds 
his power. 

In these singular circumstances, it was not strange, that 
there was a secret intestine agitation of parties and opinions, 
throughout the whole of queen Anne's reign. She herself, no 
doubt, wished that her brother, the pretender, might succeed 
her, in preference to the house of Hanover, whom she deemed 
strangers. Nevertheless, as she held her crown in prejudice 
of her brother's right, by an act of parliament, and as the na- 
tion had an unconquerable dread of popery and arbitrary power, 
to which James and his son were supposed to be wedded, she 
was forced to conceal her inclination and intentions. This was 
the more necessary, as her whig ministry, men of vast abilities, 



LESSONS FROM HISTORY. 351 

were possessed of unbounded popularity, and the victories of 
the duke of Marlborough threw a glory over her reign and 
nation. 

But so inconstant is popularity, that the credit of the whigs 
began to decline, in the midst of successes and triumphs. The 
queen seized the moment to dismiss her ministers, of whom 
she was weary, and to introduce the tories in their stead. 

The new tory ministry affected great zeal for the prosecu- 
tion of the war against France, though, in their hearts, they 
wished for peace, because the war supported the popularity of 
the whigs and the power of Marlborough, their leader, and 
because it was the interest of their party to have peace. Peace, 
on many accounts, was indispensable to them, especially, before 
France was reduced in her power, because they looked for- 
ward to the death of queen Anne, when they might need the 
powerful help of France to place the pretender on the throne. 

The duke of Marlborough had been continued in command ; 
and such was his superiour talent, that he had every reason 
to expect to strip Louis XIV. of all his conquests, and to re- 
duce him to a condition of weakness, which would for ever 
defeat the enormous project of aggrandizement, which had 
agitated Europe for fifty years, and which has lately overturned 
it from its foundation. So far the views of Marlborough and 
his former whig associates seem to be justified by the wisest 
policy and the truest patriotism. But the tories made a clamour 
about the expenses of the war ; they preached economy, they 
affected to prefer the arts and the benefits of peace to the 
glitter of triumphs and to the delusive acquisitions of war ; 
delusive, they said, for, while England gained nothing, her 
allies were aggrandizing themselves by conquests, which were 
won by English arms. The finest writers of almost any age 
joined the tory cause with their pens ; and at length the new 
ministers dismissed the duke of Marlborough, and privately 
signed preliminary articles of peace with France. This dis- 
honourable transaction was not long a secret. It produced 
jealousy and discord among the allies, as might be expected, 
and at length a wretched peace, which somewhat humbled 



352 LESSONS FROM HISTORY. 

France, but stripped her of little of the means, and of none of 
the disposition, at a more convenient season, to become the 
mistress of Europe. This she has at length effected. 

Thus we see, that a party invested with power, when it has 
an interest distinct from the national interest, will be carried 
on by its hatred of its political enemies to sacrifice the publick 
cause to its own. Heaven forbid, that France should at last 
triumph over the United States by the operation, of such a 
party interest in America. 



LESSONS FROM HISTORY. 

N°. m. 

Great Britain, whose name and independence, whose 
king and people every jacobin thinks it a debt of gratitude to 
France to abhor, was once the sovereign of the territory now 
called the United States of America. 

Mr. Jefferson's wise, vigorous, and pacifick conduct has 
been so much puffed by his friends, it has become of impor- 
tance, and will be of more and more, to scrutinize it. If Mr. 
Jefferson, now we are independent, has done less for our 
honour and safety than Great Britain did, when we were colo- 
nies ; if he has done that little, later, and in a manner to make 
it rather worse than doing nothing at all, our respect for Mr. 
Jefferson's policy ought to decline, or his friends ought to look 
out for some other more solid props to support it. 

It Avould seem strange, if, on intiuiry, it should appear, that 
our tyrant and oppressor, as the democrats hold it orthodoxy 
to consider Great Britain ; it would seem strange, that she 
should have acted with more spirit, promptness, and liberality 
in asserting our rights, than our government is now willing 
that we, independent states, should act for ourselves. 

Facts, which often spoil the work of party, facts will shew, 
that no sooner had the war for the succession of the daughter 



LESSONS FROjNI HISTORY. 353 

of the emperoui' Charles VI. to the dominion of the house of 
Austria ended by the peace of Aix la Chapelle, in 1748, than 
France begun to extend her forts on our frontiers from the St. 
Lawrence to the Mississippi. She pretended, that her colonies, 
Canada and Louisiana, extended to the Allegheny mountains, 
and included the Mississippi, the Ohio, the Monongahela, and 
other rivers, as well as the great lakes. France did not mere- 
ly claim the territory — ^she proceeded to occupy it with military 
posts, and to expel the few English settlers that she found 
within her pretended limits. 

Did the English king tell his parliament, that these aggi'es- 
sions sprung from the wantonness of subalterns, unauthorized 
by their government, and that he relied on the justice of his 
most christian majesty for redress ? Did he send a humble 
embassy to Paris to beg for it ? and, when it could not be had 
for begging, did he get an appropriation of two millions, and 
then spend fifteen to buy it ? and, after finding that he had paid 
for it in vain, did he send to Paris two millions moi'e for leave 
only to talk about buying it again ? When Spain encroached w 
upon us, when she stopped the navigation of the Mississippi 
in avoAved violation of our solemn right by treaty, what did we 
leave midone, that baseness, crawling on its belly, like a reptile 
on the ground, could possibly do to prevail on the proud aggres- 
sor to forbear treading upon us ? We asked his contempt, as 
if it was our interest, by obtaining it, to quiet his groundless 
fears of retali-tion. 

In 1754j Great Britain reasoned and acted very differently. 
She might have said, these encroachments of France will 
make the factious colonists feel their dependence upon the 
mother country a little more than they do. The acts of La 
Galissoniere, the French governour of Canada, are not the acts 
of Louis XV. I may wink at these wrongs, and postpone my 
vengeance, till I have refreshed my wasted strength after the 
disastrous war that I have just terminated ; an unpopular and, 
perhaps, inipolitick war, which has increased the burdens of 
my people, and their impatience in bearing them. If par- 
45 



354- LESSONS PROM HISTORY. 

liament had sitten with closed doors, the king might have talked 
two languages, like Mr. Jefferson, war and peace. 

Great Britain said nothing of the sort. She looked at 
these aggressions, and she saw in the whole aspect of affairs, 
as in a looking-glass, blotches of dishonour, like leprosy in her 
face, if she should bear these wrongs with a tameness that she 
foresaw would multiply them. She did not hesitate — orders 
were immediately sent to all the governours to repel force by 
force ; and major Washington, a name sacred to honour and 
patriotism, was sent out to repel the French on the Ohio. 
Nevertheless, though war was waged in America, it was not de- 
clared in Europe. To the spirit of Great Britain, so promptly 
and powerfully roused in our cause, we owe the expulsion of 
the French from Canada : an event which has saved us from a 
war with France to maintain our independence. 

Here, then, are two cases, their circumstances not unlike, 
the policy of Great Britain and Mr. Jefferson totally unlike. 
Compare them. 



LESSONS FROM HISTORY. 

N°. IV. 

ROME was a republick from its very birth. It is true, for 
two hundred and forty four years it was subject to kings ; but 
the spirit of liberty was never more lofty at any period of its 
long troubled life, than when Rome was governed by kings. 
They were in war, generals ; in peace, only magistrates. For 
seven hundred years Rome remained a republick ; and during 
every minute of that time the spirit of conquest excited and 
ruled every Roman breast. 

For thirty yeurs America has been a republick ; and during 
every minute of those thirty years the only question has been, 
how could she make independence c/iea/i, and not for one 
minute, how could liberty be made durable and glorious. 

Liberty has rocked the cradle and suckled the infancy of 
both repviblicks. They are different ; but v/hy they are different, 



LESSONS FROM HISTORY. 255 

and how different they are, it would take an octavo volume 
to tell. 

Glory was the object of the Roman republick ; and gain is 
of ours. A Roman felt as if the leprosy had broken out in his 
cheek, when his countiy was dishonoured ; and we charge it i?i 
our ledger. To Rome it cost blood ; to us, ink or tribute. 

Soon or late eveiy great nation will act out its character. 
As we do not aspire to glory, we shall never reach it ; and our 
short-sighted policy, which will not provide by the expense of 
to-morrow for the danger of the day after, will be overwhelmed 
at last by the destruction of the sordid interests, for which we 
have sacrificed more precious ones. 

Without forces, ships, or revenue, we get tallow on our 
ribs like the oxen, we make honey like the bees, we carry 
fleeces like the sheep, and we build nests like the birds, not 
for ourselves, but for others, for Buonaparte. 



LESSONS FROM HISTORY. 
N°. V. 

MACHIAVEL, in his history of Florence, has shewn, thai 
the rivalship of the great men and the common people is the 
everlasting source of discord in republicks. In Rome, he says, 
it led to dominion ; in Florence, to slavery and dependency. 
Whence, he asks, was the difference ? In Rome, eveiy thing 
was settled by reason and expostulation ; and in Florence by 
the sword. In Rome they wished to employ their great men ; 
and in Florence to exterminate them. Accordingly, Rome 
grew from little to great ; and Florence dwindled from great 
to little. 

The disciples of the school of equality would learn by study- 
ing Machiavel, who studied nature, how wide those men run 
from the principles of liberty, who carry those principles to 
impracticable extremes. 



356 LESSONS FROM HISTORY. 

But what avails federal truth ? If every grave-stone of a 
departed republick bore a lesson of wisdom and of warning, 
the democrats would shut their eyes rather than look upon it. 
They have no idea of any principles, except in their extremes, 
when they are no longer principles. We not only seem to 
choose our own destiny, but to control it. By our extravagance 
we render every thing impossible, but our degradation. 

It may please God, in the course of his providence, to train 
our nation by misfortune, and to fit it for greatness by sorne 
ages of adversity ; but if we should be left to train ourselves, 
vv'e must be abject and base. 



C 357 3 



BRITISH ALLIANCE. 

Eint publii/icd in the Rejicrtonj, November, 1 806. 

A HOSE are not the wisest of men, who undertake to act 
always by rule. In political affairs, there are no more self- 
conceited blunderers than the statesmen, who affect to proceed, 
in all cases, without res^ard to circumstances, but solely accord- 
ing to speculative principles. 

Politicks is the science of good sense, applied to publick 
affairs ; and, as those are for ever changing, what is wisdom 
to-day would be folly and, perhaps, ruin to-morrow. Politicks 
is not a science so properly as a business. It cannot have fixed 
principles, from Aviiich a wise man would never swerve, unless 
the inconstancy of men's views of interest and the capricious- 
ness of their tempers could be fixed. 

We make these remarks, because we are sometimes sorry, 
and sometimes diverted, at the dispute about an alliance offen- 
sive and defensive with Great JJritain. If ever there was a 
question of moonshine, this is one. There is no more proba- 
bility, that Mr. Jeff'erson Avill conclude such a treaty, than that 
he will breakfast to-morrow morning upon gun-powder ; and 
it is the prevailing opinion, that he is fonder of hominy. We 
might as well speculate upon our probable condition, " if 
" angels in the form of presidents should come down to tlie 
" federal city to govern us ;" or who would get or lose a fat 
commission, if the time had come when Mr. Jefferson would 
make no other inquiry than, "is he capable, is he honest ?" It 
is a pity, that our printers should argue, and contend, and 
explain about any of these matters of moonshine. 

If the time should ever come, (and a new race of men must 
be let down from the sky before it can come) when an honest 
spirit of patriotism will have such a question to decide, our 



358 BRITISH ALLIANCE. 

Catos, and our Ciceros, and Favonii would say, the decision 
must depend on circumstances^ not on principles deduced a 
priori. Salus reifiublicx sufirema lex esto. To serve and save 
the commonwealth, controls all maxims. 

It is absurd to say, Washington made no such treaty, and, 
therefore. Mi*. Jefferson ought not to make it. The times 
never I'ecjuired it of Washington ; and if they had, that firm 
and tempered soul, that heard reproach in the huzzas of popu- 
larity, unless conscience sanctioned its applause, would have 
impelled him to a treaty offensive and defensive with Great 
Britcdn. The heart swells and convulses at the mention of 
his name (in contrast even) with Jefferson's. But even Jef- 
ferson ought not to be reproached for negotiating such a treaty, 
when the circumstances may require it. We are not disposed 
to assert, that at present they do require it. We hope, but 
while they negotiate with France we scarcely know vohy we 
hope, that British hearts, such stout hearts as our ever-renown- 
ed ancestors wore, will resist Buonaparte, till his despotism has 
spent its fury, or the subject nations of Europe have recovered 
their spirit. Nevertheless, if American independence could 
not be preserved, without joining Great Britain to resist its 
great enemy, the coward world's master, is there an American 
who would object to such an alliance ? An alliance of this sort 
Avith any nation, is an evil ; but to say, there is no condition of 
our affairs, in which it would not be a less evil than subjuga- 
tion, or than the increased peril of subjugation, without such 
a concert of counsels and of efforts, is book-wisdom. It 
is that sort of folly and infatuation, which every nation that 
now wears French chaiins has fitted itself for slavery by first 
adopting. 

Whenever, therefore, a miracle is about to be publickly 
wrought, and Mr. Jefferson grows so careless of his popu- 
larity and so careful of his country, as to act the great part, 
which the reduction of the British power would justify and 
require, let not the federalists take off from his shoulders to 
their own the reproach of suffering our liberties to be seized 
by France as a prey. 



BRITISH ALLIANCE. 359 

If Britain falls in fighting oui' battles, we must fight our own ; 
and what law of sound policy or true wisdom is there, that we 
should choose to fight them, unassisted and alone ? We do 
NOf say that the time has come — heaven forbid it should ; but 
it may come, and that speedily, when the opposition to a 
British alliance would be treason against American inde- 
pendence. Let French emissaries cavil, but let Americans 
ponder. 



C 360 1 



THE DURATION OF FRENCH DESPOTISM. 

rirst published in ilic Krpeiionj, Fcbniarij, 1807. 

JL H E attempt has been repeatedly made in former commu- 
nications to shew, that the establishment of a universal French 
monarchy has become an exceedingly probable event ; and, 
moreover, that if the resistance of the British navy should, 
from any cause whatever, be withdrawn, the United States 
will become, in effect, a province or department of France. 
As, from the nature of our government, and the temper and 
views of the parties that engross its powers, it is a thing ascer- 
tained, that we must quietly submit to the domination of a 
master, it is a subject of natural, yet painful curiosity to in- 
quire, Aow lo?!^ will this dominion last ? - 

The answer to this question is, we confess, concealed 
among the impenetrable secrets of that Providence, which 
disposes of human affairs. Nevertheless, it wovild belong to 
the prudent foresight of our rulers, if our rulers were wise, to 
discern evils in their causes, to retard their progress, and to 
alleviate their pressure. And since those, to whom we have 
confided the safe keeping of our liberties, seem resolved to 
renounce all dependence on ourselves, and to abandon the ulti- 
mate disposal of them to chance and to Buonaparte, it may be 
of some assistance to our spirit of passive resignation, the only 
sort of spirit that our fall is likely to rouse, to create, if we 
can, a hope, that a destiny so near its fulfilment, so intolerable 
in degree, will be transient in duration. If, after only half a 
century of subjugation by France, the empire of the modern 
Tamerlane should fall to pieces, the successors of Jefferson 
(and fifty years of slavery might qualify some of our posterity 
to be his successors,) would no doubt exult, that we had recov- 
ered our libeity, as we lost it, without effort ; that we had out- 
lived our conqueror ; that, instead of irritating his resentment, 
we had prvidently endeavoured to conciliate his favour by the 
;klacrity of vnr submission and the largeness of the tribute. 



DURATION OP FRENCH DESPOTISM. "» 561 

which no expensive hostile preparations had been permitted 
to impair ; that, like the flexible willows, we had lain flat to 
the earth, till the storm had passed over our heads ; whereas, 
if we had stiffened ourselves against its violence, we might 
have been uprooted, like the oaks. And here our rulers may 
hope to dig from the mire of our publick degradation an im- 
pure but copious treasure of future popularity for their wis- 
dom and firmness. They have already extracted it from ma- 
terials scarcely less unpromising and foul. 

In political conjectures no guide is in the least a safe one, 
but experience ; and each event is so much determined by its 
own peculiar circumstances, that analogy often fails, where, it 
would seem on first inspection, similitude does not. The 
Roman empire had its origin about seven hundred and fifty 
years before Christ ; and lasted almost four hundred and eighty 
years after Christ. This long period of twelve hundred and 
thirty years, that the Roman state endured, may be called 
political longevity ; and, as the French imitate the Romans, 
we naturally inquire, whether we are to expect to have the 
yoke of France so long, or half so long, upon our necks. There 
was scarcely one of the twelve hundred years that Rome sub- 
sisted, that her dominion was not odious or dangerous, and the 
greater part of the time both odious and dangerous, to her 
neighbours. The weight of her yoke was aggravated by the ar' 
rogunce of her spirit. She not only chained conquered kings to 
her car of triumph, but, as her proconsuls had to practise 
oppression in the provinces, that they might be able to practise 
bribery at Rome, she trod with the weight of a war elephant, 
having a castle on his back, on the necks of her subjects. 

Imagine not, my countiymen, a French conqueror will tread 
lightly, wheyi you are prostrate. Wo to the vancjuished, is 
ever his maxim. There was no measure, there was no end to the 
Roman exactions. There is only a small part of the surplus 
wealth of a state, that a lawful government will touch ; and even 
ausurper will have an interest in sparing more than he takes ; but 
the rapacity of a conqueror is pitiless and insatiable. The popu- 
lace of Rome voted the confiscation of the wealth of the king of 
46 



362 • DUIIATION OF 

(Cyprus ; and if a patriot could have proved to them, that, with 
more regard to justice, there Avould have been less booty, 
would such considerations have produced a mitigation of the 
rigour of their decree? A conqueror can take all; and what 
he leaves, he thinks mercy. 

It is far from being certain, that we know any thing of the 
foundation of Rome. But however obscure we may deem its 
origin, there can be no doubt, that for several hundred years 
its territory was small, and the number of its subjects less 
than half a million. Nevertheless, there can be no stronger 
proof of -the force of her institutions, than that Rome, even in 
her infancy, and with fewer people than Massachusetts con- 
tains, had cherished pretensions of superiority and formed 
plans of aggrandizement, that seem scarcely credible, even 
after they have been accomplished. They considered the 
capital not merely as a fortress, but it was the "immobile 
saxum," the eminence on which Jupiter had commanded his 
temple to be built, in token of his protection of his favourite 
people. Even then, they called Rome the eternal city, the 
metropolis of nations. After the burning of Rome by the 
Gauls, the removal of the citizens to Veii was opposed, on the 
ground that the gods had promised the dominion of the world 
to the inhabitants of that spot. The people, who reverenced 
the gods, submitted, and proceeded to rebuild their houses, 
instead of occupying much better houses at Veii. 

France, on the contrary, from the first union of the tribes 
of the Franks under Clovis, has been a powerful state. It is 
true, the national character has been ever in a high degree 
warlike ; but the individual character of the Roman citizens 
was infinitely more so. Modern armies, the French as well 
as the rest, are formed of the lowest of the populace — the 
Romans excluded all such from the honour of bearing arms. 
In the early ages of the republick, and, indeed, till the time of 
Murius, the Roman soldiers were the proprietors of the land. 
The prodigious force of a state, though small in territory and 
number of people, whose citizens were all soldiers, will appear 
from this fact. Not long after Rome Avas taken by the Gauls, 



FRENCH DESPOTISM. 363 

and had seemed to be ruined, the little state of Latium revolt- 
ed, and took arms against the republick. Rorne instantly 
ari'ayed ten legions of citizens, an army scarcely less in num- 
bers, and superioar in force and discipline to that, which a 
confederacy of half Europe was able to furnish under king- 
William against Louis XIV. At the present day, such a city 
and territory as then formed the Roman republick, nay, mod- 
ern Rome itself and the very same territory would be awed 
into submission and kept in fear by a regiment of foot and two 
or three squadrons of horse. There can be no doubt, that 
ten such legions composed a more powerful army than the 
million, with which Xerxes invaded Greece, or than all the 
forces Darius could oppose to Alexander the great. It is far 
from certain, that Alexander's own army would have proved a 
match for the Romans. 

If, then, we make the comparison, v/hich the vanity of the 
great nation ardently desires to exhibit, we must not compare 
Frenchmen and Romans, but the modern empire of France 
with the old Roman empire, after the subversion of the repub- 
lick. There may be some resemblance between the means 
and policy of the two states, though there is none in the char- 
acter of the individuals. It is true, that the French recruit 
their army by conscriptions ; but it is also true, that the men, 
who are not thus drafted into the army, are mere unwarlike 
citizens. It was otherwise in Rome. The nobles were all 
generals, and the common people the best soldiers in the 
world. r 

But, after the civil wars of Marius and Sylla, the refuse of 
the city of Rome were admitted into the armies, and the own- 
ers of land in Italy were expelled by force to make donations 
of farms to the conquering soldiers. After these events, 
Rome was filled with a spiritless and abject multitude. Instead 
of the people,, who had looked with defiance upon the trium- 
phant banners of Hannibal waving in sight of their walls, like 
every other overgrown city, it trembled and submitted on 
every hostile summons. 



364 DURATION OF 

Rome acquired her conquests not only by the superiority of 
her institutions, but because those institutions had made the 
individual Romans superiour to their enemies ; but when all 
the nations around the Mediterranean had submitted to her 
sway, this personal superiority was no longer to be seen any 
where, except in the Roman armies. They long excelled all 
rivals and enemies in every soldierly qualification : and here, 
perhaps, the similitude between Rome and France begins. 

The French armies are, no doubt, superiour in Europe ; 
whether they outnumber their enemies, or place a much larger 
proportion of cavalry in every field of battle, or bring with 
them more field pieces and serve them more skilfully than 
their enemies. Whatever may be the cause of this superiority, 
the fact is indisputable, that the French are, at least, as much 
superiour to the Prussians, as the Romans were to the Mace- 
donians. 

Our principal question, then, recurs, assuming it for certain, 
that the French will establish a universal empire, how long 
will it last ? In a battle, the best of the two armies will win the 
victory ; but, though conquests may be won by victories, it is 
extremely difficult to conceive, what means any conqueror can 
possess long to maintain them. The petty states bordering on 
Rome were gradually, in a course of four hundred years, sub- 
dued by her arms ; nor was the final concjuest achieved with- 
out admitting them as allies, to be partners of her dominion and 
the associates of her glory. At length their union with the 
.state was as perfect, as that of Normandy, once a hostile pro- 
vince, now is with the rest of France. But the Samnites had 
more power, and more implacable hatred to Rome than her 
other foes ; and, therefore, they were nearly exterminated, like 
the insurgents of La Vendee. 

Thus Italy was moulded into one state, before Pyrrhus, and 
after him the Carthaginians, contended with Rome. Macedo- 
nia was not a great state, but Philip and Perseus had fine 
armies. When these were routed, Macedonia was what Prus- 
sia is now. Greece, like the German empire, jvas an anarchy 
of republicks, which, because it was easy to divide, it cost no 



FRENCH DESPOTISM. 365 

trouble to subdue, oi' to keep in subjection. Egypt, under the 
Ptolemies, was tis despicable as the French found it lately under 
the mamelukes. The Romans overthrew Antiochus the great, 
and seized all the provinces of Asia more easily than their best 
general could take the single cities of Carthage or Numantia. 

To preserve her conquests, Rome built no fortresses, and 
resorted to no other means than armies and colonies. Her 
empire contiined, Mr. Gibbon computes, about one hundred 
and tv^fenty miiiions of souls ; yet her army did not exceed 
sixty legions, being less than four hundred thousand men. 

The French keep on foot more soldiers ; but, it is to be con- 
sidered, their career of conquest avus begun only ten years ago. 
They have imposed their yoke on nations, not divided into a 
hundred independent tribes, like the Gauls and Spaniards, not 
barbarians, like the Germans, not effeminate, like the Asiaticks, 
but on nations, who confided so entirely on their miion, re- 
sources, and spirit, that they supposed it impossible they should 
be conquered. The states now subject to France exceed her 
in the number of soldiers, they still exceed her in the number 
of people. Their fall has roused every passion of pride, fear, 
and vengeance ; and there is not the least reason to suppose, 
that the insolence and rapacity of the conqueror will suffer 
them to subside. The difference of language, character, and 
condition will prevent their assimilation into one people for 
many years. 

Long before such an assimilation could take place, the mili- 
tary despotism of France will be weakened by its own intem- 
perance and excess. As Buonaparte reigns by uniting in 
himself the command of all the armies, whenever his death, 
infirmity, or adversity shall afford the opportunity, may we 
not expect, that the command of a great separate army will 
inspire into its chief the design of independence ? For instance, 
Poland, and the North of Germany, which, let it be observed, 
the Romans could never subdue, could not be holden without 
a large French army ; nor would that army, stationed for many 
years in the same quarters, lose the occasion of a vacancy in 
the government, to consider their general as their emperour 



366 DURATION OF 

or king, and to place him on the throne of the countiy subject 
to their military jurisdiction. It is in vain for Buonap-arte to 
multiply decrees of his senate, declaring his empire indivisible 
and hereditary. It is possible and, indeed, probable, that the 
government of France itself may after many years of convul- 
sion become so. 

But the vast countries overrun by the P'rench will not lose 
their ancient honours and their I'ecent shame ; and if the de- 
scendants of their expelled princes should not recover their 
thrones, if their former subjects should not I'esume their arms^ 
and chase the French out of their territories, yet the ambition 
of the French generals will divide the empire. The conquests 
of Charlemagne were sudden ; but the nations, who were rather 
confounded than subdued, resumed their independence under 
his feeble successors. 

The wars of the ancients were marked with a peculiar 
animation and even ferocity. The weaker always dreaded, and 
generally suffered every extremity from the fury of the victor. 
The people were slaves, and all their property, including lands 
and houses, was booty. Such contests could not be maintained 
Avith the half hostile, half traitorous languor of the modern 
v/ars against France. They needed, and they roused all the 
energies of all the citizens. But when the war was over, the 
conqueror stripped his captives as naked of power as of all 
other possessions. Hence it was, that the Romans found it 
so extremely difficult to subdue enemies, who fought to the 
last with all the energy of despair ; and hence too it was, that, 
when once effectually conquered, we hear no more of their 
resistance. The Romans were not greatly ti'oubled with in- 
surrections, except of their armies. 

It is, however, the law, as well as the motive of modern 
conquests, to preserve rather than to destroy. The subjects 
change masters ; they are oppressed by military contributions ; 
but they are not wholly stripped. It is scarcely possible, that 
the mildest exercise of a conqueror's rights should not enrage 
them, or that any modern mitigation of them should wholly 
rlisarm their vengeance. 



FRENCH DESPOTISM. ^67 

It ought to be observed, too, as a consequence of the last 
remark, that, in the times of the Roman emperouvs, the popu- 
lation of every country was in a great measure composed of 
slaves ; that of Europe, which France has overrun, is much 
soundpr. Rome, soon after the expulsion of the kings, Avas 
filled with citizens, who were all soldiers ; but, in the time of 
the emperours, its vast walls were crowded with, perhaps, a 
million of slaves, who were all abject and base. As this was 
the case in Rome, it was still worse in Alexandria, Antioch, 
Nicomedia, Carthage, Sirmium, Aquileia, Ravenna, and Na- 
ples. A degenerate race of conquerors could keep slaves in 
subjection. 

But the people of Germany are, at least, as warlike as those 
of France. It is, therefore, extremely difficult to conceive, 
what means the conqueror possesses or can employ always to 
keep his equals in his chains. Their princes may lose their 
thrones ; but we cannot resist the opinion, that, ultimately, the 
nations will recover their independence. 

Supposing, then, that the French empire is, in its very 
structure and principles, a temporary sway, that the causes, 
whatever they may be, which have made its action irresistible, 
produce and prolong a re-action sufficient in the end to coun- 
teract their impulse, ought we not, as men, as patriots, to hope, 
that Great Britain may be able to protract her resistance, till 
that re-action shall be manifested ? And, as mere idle wishes 
are unbecoming the wise and the brave, ought not the Amei'i- 
can nation to make haste to establish such a navy as will limit 
the con([ueror's ravages to the dry land of Europe ? We have 
more than a million tons of merchant shipping ; more, much 
more, than queen Elizabeth of England, and Philip II. of 
Spain, both possessed, in the time of the famous armada. We 
may be slaves in soul, and possess the means of defence, with- 
out daring to use them. We do possess them, and, if our 
spirit bore proportion to those means, in a very few years our 
ships could stretch a ribbon across every harbour of France, 
and say with authority to the world's master stop ; here thy 
proud course is stayed. 



C 368 ] 



DANGEROUS POWER OP FRANCE. N°. IV. 

SUBJECT RESUMED. 
First puhlisltcd in the Rcjicrtovy, March, 1808. 

VV H EN men indulge their passions, they seldom stop where 
they should : excess breeds more excess. Party hatred sur- 
passes all other, as if fiends from the bottomless pit had breath- 
ed their fell inspiration into the human heart. Their virulence 
strikes the understanding blind, and blindness augments their 
virulence, till a civil war rages in the state, and, without resort 
to arms, quenches half the joys and all the charities of life. 
In this condition, liberty is ejected from her temple, and strip- 
ped of her ornaments and her charms. And as impunity is 
not often long indulged to habitual vice and folly, whether in 
a publick or an individual, the enemy of the state seldom 
neglects the inviting opportunity to make a fatal progress, 
while the attention of the magistrate, who ought to be our 
common parent and protector, is wholly engrossed by a con- 
test with his enemy. The chief ruler is in that case degraded 
from his exalted station. He is a man, and, when such pas- 
sions blind him, a weak and bad man too, a magistrate for dis- 
order, and our guardian to betray us. 

In these observations we should suppose every man would 
concur, who is capable of understanding them ; and, in this 
great crisis, we should think he could apply them too. Possibly, 
so predominant are party feelings, those will refuse assent to 
their truth, who can foresee their just political application. 
Nevertheless, let us presume to apply them. 

Mr. Jefferson has wrapped up all diplomatick communica- 
tions from France in mystery. Yet we believe it is unjust, on 
that account, to accuse him of a partial fondness for Buo- 
naparte. Love Buonaparte ! No human being ever loved 
him. Love the crocodile ; love the shark, who feeds upon the 
dead ; or the royal tyger of Bengal, who snatches your children 



DANGEROUS POWER OF FRANCE. 369 

from the cradle, and cracks their bones in your sight. Mr. Jef- 
ferson may fear Buonaparte, but he cannot love him. Nor is 
it possible, that he should wish to give him power in the United 
States. From the inestimable sacrifices he made to get his 
present power, we may be certain, that he loves it. Nor can 
we admit, that Mr. Jefferson, a vetei'an, and, many choose to 
say, an oracle in politicks, can be blind to the formidable dan- 
ger of the present day. He knows, that France is not now in 
the political world what she Was, when he was a publick minis- 
ter to Louis XVI. Excepting England, she has absorbed 
that world into her own limits. A change of fourteen cen- 
turies has passed over her head. She has gone back so much, 
and Attila, " the scourge of God," has come again. 

Mr. Jefferson knows, that there is but one obstacle to the 
progi'ess of French power, and that is the hated British navy. 
The immortal spirit of the wood nymph liberty, dwells only in 
the British oak. Suppose that navy destroyed, would our 
liberty survive a week ? The wind of the blow that should des- 
troy British independence, would strike ovir own senseless to 
the earth. Boastful and vain as we are, the very thought of 
independence would take flight from our hearts. 

We have a curiosity to know, whether Mr. Jefferson and 
Mr. Madison do really believe we could support our liberty, if 
Great Britain had lost hers. Without intending to indulge in 
the too common rudeness and disi'espect of party addresses, we 
should deem it a signal work of patriotism, if, by any thing we 
shall offer, we could induce those gentlemen to examine, with 
the precision and acuteness of mind that they are allowed to 
possess, this awful question for America, If Great Britain falls, 
will not America fall ? Shall we not lie in the dust at the con- 
queror's foot, and with servile, affected joy receive our chains 
without resistance. 

It will be ever fashionable to boast of the invincible spii'it 
of freemen, as long as power is to be won by flattery. We 
remark, that some speakers in congress assume it as a thing 
impossible, that an invading foe could make any progress in 
our country. Others, in party opposition to them, either lilind 
47 



370 DANGEROUS POWER 

to the truth, or afraid to speak it, readily assent to the asser- 
tion, that the United States are unconquerable. Thus a dan- 
;^crous delusion acquires not only a plausible authority, but it 
seems to be a violation of the sanctity- of the national faith to 
expose it. 

This is no time to trifle — let it be exposed. 

If Great Britain were conquered, Buonaparte could have her 
fifteen hundred ships ; if only humbled, he could have the ships 
of all the rest of Europe to transport an army under one of his 
lieutenants to our shores, as nvmierous as he might think 
necessary to ensure conquest. Power seldom long wants means. 
lie could send over twenty thousand, and more, if wanted, of 
his dismounted horsemen, with their saddles, bridles, and 
equipments. He would not fail to seciu'e horses from our 
islands, such as Long Island, and the extensive necks and pro- 
montories, which could not be defended against him. 

Being master of the sea, he could make large and frequent 
detachments from his camp to defenceless regions, which he 
would strip. To this let it be added, the American army, 
if Ave should have an army, being concentred to some well- 
chosen mountainous place, would, of course, leave the cities a 
prey. 

Thus it cannot be doubted, that he would have horses to 
remount his cavalry. Suppose a numerous French army, hav- 
ing two fifths of its force cavalry, with all the formidable 
thousands of light artillery that brought Austria and Prussia to 
his feet in a day. Would the American militia face this army ? 
Suppose they do not — then our cities, our whole coast, and all 
the open cultivated country are French. Would the millions 
on and near the coast take flight to the mountains ? Could 
they subsist, or would they remain long unmolested there ? 
Mountains, when no equal army was in the field, never did stop 
the soldiers of Buonaparte. 

Let us come back, then, to our militia army, since we are 
obliged to see, that the French would effectually conquer our 
country, if our army should not be able to check their rapid 
progress. Could we collect an army ? On all the coast would 



OF FRANCE. Gri 

be terrour, busy concern to hide property, and to shelter 
women, helpless age, and infancy. The seaports would not 
only retain their own men, but call in those of the neighbour- 
ing country to defend them. Probably, they would ask an 
addition of troops from government. 

It would, therefore, be a difficult and very sIoav work, to 
collect a militia army equal in numbers to the French. Near 
fifty thousand men were sent to Egypt, and as many more to 
St. Domingo. Had either of those armies landed here, could 
we have faced them Avith an equal force, equal in numbers ? 
We think not. 

Let Mr. Jefferson ask any skilful old continental officer, 
whether our army of militia would push bayonet with the 
French. No military man would say, that our militia would 
stand the tug of war, and defeat the French. 

Did we not, cries some wordy patriot, contend with the 
British ? The answer would be long, to make it as decisive as 
we think it really is. The British were cooped up in Boston 
a year. In 1778, sir William Howe had only four or five 
hundred cavalry, and he moved as if he was more afraid of our 
beating him, than resolved to beat us. 

At Long Island, Washington was totally defeated, and might 
have been made prisoner with his whole army. He was not 
pursued. In the third year of the war, his troops, and even 
the militia of the states in the scene of the war, had become 
considerably disciplined. It is not denied, that with three 
years preparation we could have an army ; but we make no 
preparation ; and unless we eiilist our men, the parade of 
militia is a serious buffiDoneiy. When sir William Howe 
forced our men from the field, he had no cavalry, and our men 
could flee faster than his could pursue. But the French — 
experience has shewn, that, when they win battles, they decide 
the war. Myriads of cavalry press upon the fugitives, and in 
half a day the defence of a nation is captive or slain. Defeat 
is irremediable destruction. 

Would our stone walls stop their horse ? Then the pioneers 
Avould pull down those walls. Shooting from behind fences 



372 DANGEROUS POAVER 

would not stop "cin army ; nor would our militia \ enture on a 
measure that would be fatal : the numerous and widely ex- 
tended flanking- parties would cut off all such adventurers to a 
man. No, Mr. Jefferson, do not lull your fears to sleep, do 
not aggravate our publick dangers by a mistake of our sii.ua- 
tion. There are times, and the case of invasion would be a 
time, when the mistakes of our rulers could not be committed 
with impunity. 

With an army less than two hundred thousand, but with 
double the common proportion of cavalry, Buonaparte has over- 
run the German empire, Austria, Prussia, and all continental 
Europe from the Adriatick to the Baltick, rich, populous, and 
computed formerly to arm a million of soldiers. 

The democratick gazettes have uniformly maintained, that 
Buonaparte's unvaried success was not owing to chance, but 
to the real, irresistible superiority of the French arms, to their 
newly improved tacticks, and to the impetuosity of their attack. 
All this, rare as our agreement with the democrats may be, all 
this we believe ; and we solemnly warn Mr. Jefferson not lightly 
to reject the long habitual opinion of his party. We firmly, 
though unwillingly believe, that as the old Romans, were 
superiour to their enemies, so the French are, at least, as much 
superiour to their enemies by Imid. The vast extent of both 
empires, Roman and French, grew out of this superiority. 

Hence we conclude, that, if our militia army should fight 
a battle, they would lose it. They would inevitably lose it, and 
the loss of the battle would be the loss of the country. The 
French would hold the coast by their fleet, and the interiour 
by their army. Be it remembered too, that Canada would be 
French, if Great Britain should be subdued, and the Floridas 
and Louisiana, though she should not. Where, then, would 
be the security of the mountains ? Much dreadful experience, 
and more dreadful fears Avould follow the conquest, till at 
length, like the rest of the world, we should enjoy the quiet of 
despair and the sleep of slavery. Popularity, as dear perhaps 
as liberty, will be sought no more ; and we shall place our 



OF FRANCE. 57S 

luippiness, if slaves may 'talk of happiness, in the smiles, or, 
still better, in the neglect of a master. 

We have purposely omitted an infinity of proofs in corrobo- 
ration of our melancholy conclusion, that, in case of a French 
invasion, the country would be literally conquered. We should 
tamely accept a Corsican prince for a king, and, in virtue of 
our alUaiice with France, agree by treaty to maintain French 
troops enough to keep down insurrection. Far be it from us 
to believe, that our fell6w citizens in the militia are not brave. 
Their very bravery, we apprehend, would ensure their defeat : 
they would dare to attempt what militia cannot achieve. Nor 
let the heroick speech-makers pretend, that our citizens would 
swear to live free or die ; and that they would resist, till the 
country was depopulated or emancipated. There is no founda- 
tion in human nature for this boast. The Swiss were free, 
cind loved their liberty as well as men ever did ; yet they are 
enslaved, and quiet in their chains. Experience shews, that 
men are glad to survive the loss of liberty. They must be 
mad, to continue to resist the power, that, on trial, has been 
found superiour and irresistible. Myriads of persons, we see, 
are glad, on pecuniary encouragement, to go into the army, 
Avhere every democrat will insist there cannot be liberty, be- 
cause there is restraint. 

Our readers might soon be tired, if they are not already, 
but we should ncA'er be tired ourselves to diversify our argu- 
ment to prove, in contradiction to the groundless and perhaps 
treacherous pretensions of faction, that our country is absolute- 
ly defenceless against Buonaparte, when master of the sea. 
We could urge, that the French troops marched through 
countries having three or four times as many people as the 
United States, with the quietness of a procession. Does he 
not confide in the conquest of Great Britain, if he could only 
reach the shore with his troops ? Yet Great Britain has twice 
our population, in a narrow compass too, and nearly one hun- 
dred times our military foixe. 

With so many proofs, after so decisive experience of the 
resistless march of the French, is it not presumption, folly, 



374 DANGEROUS POWER 

madness to suppose we could be free, if France had the Britisli 
fleet. To our minds the proof is demonstration. 

We do not urge this fearful conclusion, because we despise 
our countrymen, or wish to see America dishonoured. Far, 
far from our hearts are such abominable wishes. Look, look, 
fellow countrymen, as we do, to your dear, innocent children. 
Ask your hearts, if they can bear so racking a question, whether 
a shallow confidence in our unarmed security against Buona- 
parte, in case Great Britain should falf, does not tend to devote 
them to the rage of a restless, unappeasable tyrant. We trem- 
ble at the thought, that our own dear children will be in Buon- 
aparte's conscription for St. Domingo, in case the Gallican 
policy of our government should be pursued, till its natural 
tendencies are accomplished*. 

To fools we say nothing, nothing to traitors, with whom a 
troubled republick is always cursed ; but we would ask Mr. 
Jefferson, we would ask all sober citizens, whether, if the 
danger of an invasion be considered as really impending, we 
ought not to have an army to meet it ? We ask further, would a 
raw army, raised when the foe is on our shores, be fit to oppose 
him ? Would you stake the life of our liberty upon the resist- 
ance that paper could make against iron ? 

No, evex'y man would say, that, if we are to fight an invad- 
ing enemy, sixty thousand strong, in 1810 or 1812, we have 
no time to lose in raising an army, by enlistment, stronger than 
the invaders, and training them to an equality of subordination, 
discipline, and confidence in themselves and their officers. 
Such an army with cavalry, artillery, engineers. Sec. would be 
too expensive for our means, or for the temper of our citizens, 
who have been studiously taught to hold taxes as grievances 
and wrongs. The thing, we grant, is impossible. To depend 
on a militia not enlisted nor disciplined as before mentioned, 
is madness. 

It follows, then, we think, irresistibly, demonstratively, that 
our single hope of security is in the triumphs of the British 

• The writer could scarcely speak of his children, during the last few months of his life, 
vithout exi>reisin£; his deep apprehensions of their future servitude to the FroTich. 



OF FRANCE. 375 

mwy. While that rides mistress of the ocean, the French can no 
more pass it to attack us, than they could ford the bottomless pit. 

Hitherto we have designedly avoided all party topicks. 
We have gone vipon the supposition, that the democrats do not 
wish their children slaves to Buonaparte, any more than our 
own. We take it for clear, that it is of more national impor- 
tance to be free, than to carry coffee to Amsterdam. If, then, 
we have so great interests depending, we cannot but wonder, 
that Mr. Jefferson should endanger them for the sake of minor 
interests, which are, in comparison, but as the small dust of 
the balance. He professes to aim his measures at the destruc- 
tion of the British " tyranny of the seas ;" and he seems to 
exult in the thought, that they are adequate to his end. God 
forbid that they should be ! God, of his mercy, forbid, that, 
after having led our forefathers by the hand, and, as it were, 
by his immediate power planted a great nation in the wilder- 
ness, he should permit the passions or the errours of our 
chief to plunge us into ruin and slavery. Shall this French 
magog be allowed to pluck our star from its sphere, and quench 
its bright orb in the sea ? 

It is apprehended, that Mr. Jefferson is entirely convinced, 
that Great Britain is now making her expiring efforts. It is 
said, he holds it impossible, that she should resist Buonaparte 
two years longer. Then let him wear sackcloth. Let him 
gather a colony, and lead them to hide from a conqueror's 
pursuit in the trackless forests near the sources of the Mis- 
souri. Frost, hunger, and poverty will not gripe so hard as 
Buonaparte. 

But, if he expects the speedy destruction of Great Britain, 
what motive has he to exert himself to hasten it. He knows 
mankind, he knows Buonaparte too well to hope, that the 
tyrant's hand will be the lighter for that merit. That bosom, 
so notoriously steeled against pity, will not melt to friendship. 
Among the infinite diversity of a madman's dreams, was there 
ever one so extravagant, as that a republick might safely trust 
its liberty to the sentiment of a master ? Every moon-beam at 
Washington must have shot frenzy, if such a motive among 



376 DANGEROUS POWER 

politicians could have influenced action. If liberty should fall, 
as it will, if France prevails, at least, let us have the con- 
solation to say, our hands have not assisted in the assassina- 
tion. 

But is it so very clear, that Great Britain will fall in the 
conflict ? A youthful conquei-or, scorning all doubts of the lui- 
limited efficiency of his power, has prohibited the use of Bri- 
tish manufactures, and all intercourse even of neutrals with 
her merchants. He expects to cut off" the roots of her great- 
ness, or to see her wither, like a girdled oak, and her tall trunk 
nodding to its fall, making it dangerous to approach her. He 
seems, like many of our politicians, to suppose, that her great- 
ness is factitious, and that her foreign trade is the aliment and 
life of its support. For our part, we deem her grandeur intrin- 
sick, the fair fruit of her constitution, her justice, her ai'ts, and 
her magnanimity. But, as we mean to avoid contested points, 
we restrain ourselves to consider the effect of Buonaparte's 
decrees to ruin her. He is neither omnipotent nor omni- 
scient. Of course, we imagine, that distance, art, avarice, and 
necessity will conspire to elude his vindictive blockading orders. 

If he succeeds, we hope he will not conquer England. If 
he fails, as we trust he will fail, his attempt will furnish her 
Avith augmented means of a perpetual resistance. British goods 
will be clandestinely admitted into the continent, after they 
have been charged with British duties. The scarcity will 
augment the price, so that the duty will not prevent the sale ; 
on the contrary, there will be the strongest allurements of 
profit. The French government will be so far from able to 
suppress the traffick, that we are rather to expect it will be 
itself under the necessity of occasionally relaxing the rigour 
of its decrees. After having for some time contemplated the 
eff"ect of Buonaparte's decrees, we have gradually subdued 
our fears of the impoverishment of Great Britain from their 
operation. 

Nor let Mr. Jefferson imagine, that our country can derive 
any temporary advantage from our co-operation in his decrees. 
He disdains to wait for the slow progress of art to accomplish 



OP PRANCE. 37r 

his purposes. He now expects to win allies only by terrour. 
Let them hate, if they do but fear, is his maxim. If Great 
Britain enforces her countervailing orders, our neutrality can- 
not longer assist to supply his wants. Enraged to be thus 
met by Great Britain, nothing remains but for him to intimi- 
date Mr. Jefferson into an alliance. The world's muster 
allows no neutrality. In fact there are no neutrals. The 
maritime law supposes a society of nations bound together by 
reciprocal rights and duties. That society is dissolved ; and it 
is chimerical, if not unwarrantable, for the United States to 
claim singly the aggregated and supposed residuary rights 
devolved upon us by the departed nations. The old system is 
gone ; and it is a mockery, or worse, for one nation to affect to 
represent a dozen once independent states, now swallowed up 
by a conqueror. Ambition, will violate our moonshine rights ; 
and if we submit to his decrees, we ourselves violate our neu- 
tral duties. What tyranny will do in contempt of right, self- 
preservation permits the other belligerent to do in strict 
conformity with it. Where, then, is neutrality ? Let us be 
ashamed of a petulent strife about lost and irrecoverable pre- 
tensions. It is a sort of posthumous wisdom, that, when the 
publick dangers thicken, always looks back, and never looks 
round our actual position. Why should we not look our con- 
dition in the face I The question is not about the profits of 
navigation, but the security of our existence. 

Why do our publick men wilfully blind themselves, and 
regard no dangers but such as they apprehend from the hos- 
tility of party ? The earth we tread on holds the bones of the 
deceased patriots of the revolution. Why will the sacred 
silence of the grave be broken ? Will the illustrious shades 
walk forth into publick places, and audibly pronounce a warn- 
ing to convince us, that the independence, for which they bled, 
is in danger ? No ; witliouf a miracle, the exercise of our rea- 
son would convince us, that our independence is in danger 
from France ; and, if Great Britain falls by force, terrour alone 
would bring us into subjection. 
48 



378 DANGEROUS POWER OF FRANCE. 

IVe do not love or respect our country less than those, who 
inconsiderately boast of its invincible strength and prowess. 
As the destroyer of natio7is has enslaved Europe, and as only 
one nation, Great Britain, has hindered his coming here to 
conquer us, they have no ears to hear, they have no hearts to 
feel for our country, who would break down that obstacle and 
let him in. 

This is not a party effusion ; it proceeds from hearts that 
are ready to burst with anxiety on the prospect of the political 
insanity that seems ready to join the foe. It is republican 
suicide, it is treachery to the people, to make them an inno- 
cent sacrifice to the passions of our rulers. 

Let Mr. Jefferson avail himself of the power, that his 
weight with his own party gives him, and stop the progress 
of our fate. We do not ask him to go to war with France, 
Consult prudence, and renounce the affection of that false 
honour, which has been of lute so much upon our lips. He 
will find the federalists love their country better than their 
party. Let there be peace, merely peace, we say nothing of 
alliance with Great Britain ; and if our champion falls in the 
combat, let us not, when we perish, deplore the fatal folly of 
having contributed to hasten his and our destruction. 



THE DANGERS 

OF 

AMERICAN LIBERTY. 

WRITTEN IN THE BEGINNING OF THE YEAR 1805. 
Nmv Jirst jniblhhed. 

IN Febniai7 1805, the following sketch of a dissertation on " The Dangers of American 
Liberty," accompanied with a short familiar letteri^, was sent by Mr. Ames to a frii-nd for 
Ills perusal. It was soon returned, for tlie purposes expressed in the author's letter, with 
a hope that he would re-consider, revise, and complete it ; and especially that he would 
fulfil his original desigpn of applying his argument in a manner, that would lead the peo- 
ple to preserve as long as possible the civil blessings tliej' enjoy, and not sacrifice them to 
delusive theories. 

It does not appear, that the author ever resumed his subject, or that the manuscript was 
opened after that period, until since his death. Yet it is thought not improper to gratif) 
the publick with a work, which, though quite imperfect, would, if it had been finished, 
have been found deeply interesting to its welfare. 



Sic tibi persuade, nie dies et iwctes ni/ii! aliud a^cre, nihil curare, nisi tit mei cives salvi liben- 
(juesint. Ep. Famil. I. 24. 

Be assured, f here/are, f/iat neither dnij no'' n'ght have I any cares, any labours, hiif fnrlhe 
safety and freedom of my fellviv citizens. 



I 



AM not positive, that it is of any immediate use to our 
countiy, that its true friends should better understand one 
another ; nor am I apprehensive, that the crudities, which my 
ever hasty pen confides to my friends, will essentially mislead 
their opinion in respect either to myself or to publick affairs. 
At a time when men eminently wise cherish almost any hopes, 
however vain, because they choose to be blind to their fears, 
it would be neither extraordinary nor disreputable for me to 
mistake the degree of maturity, to which our political vices, 
have arrived, nor to err in computing how near or how far oft" 
we stand from the term of their fatal consummation. 

I FEAR, that the future fortunes of our country no longer 
depend on counsel. We have persevered in our errours too 

+ The following is the letter of Mr. Ames, mentioned above : 
My dear Friend, 

YOU will see the deficiencies and faults of this performance. You will see, that the con- 
clusion, if your life and patieiice should hold out to the end, is incomplete. There is, I dare 
say, tautology, perhaps contradiction. It is an effusion from the mind of the .stock tliaf wat. 



380 THE DANGERS OF 

long to chant^e our propensities by now enlightening our con- 
victions. The political sphere, like tlie globe we tread upon, 
never stands still, but with a silent swiftness accomplishes the 
revolutions, which, we are too ready to believe, are effected by 
our wisdom, or might have been controlled by our efforts. 
There is a kind of fatality in the affairs of republicks, that 
eludes the foresight of the Avise, as much as it frustrates 
the toils and sacrifices of the patriot and the hero. Events 
proceed, not as they were expected or intended, but as they 
are impelled by the irresistible laws of our political existence. 
Things inevitable happen, and we are astonished, as if they 
were miracles, and the course of nature had been overpower- 
ed or suspended to produce them. Hence it is, that, till lately, 
more than half our countrymen believed our publick tranquil- 
lity was firmly established, and that our liberty did not merely 
rest upon dry land, but was Avedged, or rather rooted high 
above the flood in the rocks of graintc, as immovably as the 
pillars that prop the universe. They, or at least the discern- 
ing of them, are at length no less disappointed than temified 
to perceive that we have all the time floated, with a fearless 
and unregarded course, down the stream of events, till we are 
now visibly drawn within the revolutionary suction of Niagara, 
and every thing that is liberty will be dashed to pieces in the 
descent. 

^^'E have been accustomed to consider the pretension of 
Englishmen to be free, as a proof how completely they were 
broken to subjection, or hardened in imposture. We have 
insisted, that they had no constitution, because they never 
made one ; and that their boasted government, which is just 

laid lip in it, without any resort to books. Of course, it \vants more facts, more illustrations, 
more txiu't iiictliocl, to oliauge its aspect of declamation and rlieiorical flourish into a 
htishicst pei-formance. I know it is unequal. When the children cried, or my head acUed, 
itiL- work flaggtd To be of value enough for the author to own it, he must be allowed time, 
must bvStow on it inore thoNgUt, search for facts and principles in pamplilets and largvr 
« orks, and, in short, make it entiivly over again. 

Thi.refor< , it is not shewn to you for publication, or approbation, as a thing that is w ritten, 
but a 'iiihjret proposed to bt! written upon, for which you will funiish hints and counsels. 
1805. Vour's truly. 



AMERICAN LIBERTY. 381 

what time and accident have made it, was palsied with age, 
and blue with the plague -sores of corruption. We have be- 
lieved, that it derived its stability, not from I'eason, but from 
prejudice ; that it is supported, not because it is favourable to 
liberty, but as it is dear to national pride ; that it is reverenced, 
not for its excellence, but because ignorance is natuniily the 
idolater of antiquity ; that it is not sound and healthful, but 
derives a morbid energy from disease, and an unaccountable 
aliment from the canker that corrodes its vitals. 

But we mainttiined, that the federal constitution, with all 
the bloom of youth and splendour of innocence, w.is gifted 
with immortality. For, if time should impair its force, or fac- 
tion tarnish its charms, the people, ever vigilant to discern its 
wants, ever powerful to provide for them, would miracuiously 
restore it to the field, like some wounded hero of the epick, to 
take a signal vengeance on its enemies, or like Antseus, invi- 
gorated by touching his mother earth, to rise the stronger for 
a fall. 

There is, of course, a large portion of our citizens, who 
will not believe, even on the evidence of facts, that any pubiick 
evils exist, or are impending. They deride the apprehensions 
of those who foresee, that licentiousness will prove, as it e\'er 
has proved, fatal to liberty. They consider her as a nymph, 
who need not be coy to keep herself pure, but that, on the 
contrary, her chastity will grow I'obust by frequent scuiiles with 
her seducers. They say, while a faction is a minority, it will 
remain harmless by being outvoted ; and if it should become 
a majority, all its acts, however profligate or violent, are then 
legitimate. For, with 'the democruts, the people is a sovereign 
who can do no wrong, even when he respects and spares no 
existing right, and whose voice, however obtained or however 
counterfeited, bears all the sanctity and all the force of a liv- 
ing divinity. 

Where, then, it will be asked, in a tone both of menace 
and of triumph, can the people's dangers lie, unless it be with 
the persecuted federalists ? They are the partisans of mon- 
archy, who propagate their principles in order, as soon as they 



382 THE DANGERS OF 

have increased their sect, to introduce a king ; for by this only 
avenue they foretell his approach. Is it possible the people 
should ever be their own enemies ? If all government were 
dissolved to-day, vi'ould they not re-establish it to-morrow, with 
no other prejudice to the publick liberty, than some superflu- 
ous fears of its friends, some abortive projects of its enemies ? 
Nay, would not liberty rise resplendent with the light of fresh 
experience, and coated in the seven-fold mail of constitutional 
amendments ? 

These opinions are fiercely maintained, not only as if there 
were evidence to prove them, but as if it were a merit to believe 
them, by men who tell you, that, in the most desperate extremi- 
ty of faction or usurpation, we have an unfailing resource in the 
good sense of the nation. They assure us there is at least as 
much wisdom in the fieople, as in these ingenious tenets of their 
creed. 

For any purpose, tlierefore, of popular use or general im- 
pression, it seems almost fruitless to discuss the qviestion, 
whether our publick liberty can subsist, and what is to be the 
condition of that awful futurity to which we are hastening. 
The clamours of party are so loud, and the resistance of national 
vanity is so stubborn, it will be impossible to convince any but 
the very wise, (and in every state they are the very few) that 
our democratick liberty is utterly untenable ; that we are de- 
voted to the successive struggles of factions, who will rule by 
turns, the worst of whom will rule last, and triumph by the 
sword. But for the wise this unwelcome task is, perhaps, 
superfluous : they, possibly, are already convinced. 

All such men are, or ought to be, agreed, that simple govern- 
ments are despotisms ; and of all despotisms a democracy, 
though the least durable, is the most violent. It is also true, 
that all the existing governments we are acquainted with are 
more or less mixed^ or balanced and checked, however imper- 
fectly, by the ingredients and principles that belong to the other 
simple sorts. It is, nevertheless, a fact, that there is scarcely 
any civil constitution in the woi-ld, that, according to American 
ideas, is so mixed and combined as to be favourable to the 



AMERICAN LIBERTY. 383 

liberty of the subject — none, absolutely none, that an American 
patriot would be willing to adopt for, much less to impose on, 
his country. Without pretending to define that liberty, which 
writers at length agree is incapable of any precise and com- 
prehensive definition, all the European governments, except 
the British, admit a most formidable portion of arbitrary power ; 
whereas, in America, no plan of government, without a large 
and preponderating commixture of democracy, can, for a mo- 
ment, possess our confidence and attachment. 

It is unquestionable, that the concern of the people in the 
affairs of such a government, tends to elevate the character and 
enlarge the comprehension, as well as the enjoyments, of the ci- 
tizens ; and, supposing the government wisely constituted, and 
the laws steadily and firmly carried into execution, these effects, 
in which every lover of mankind must exult, will not be attend- 
ed with a corresponding depravation of the publick manners 
and morals. I have never yet met with an American of any 
party, who seemed willing to exclude the people from their 
temperate and well-regulated share of concern in the govern- 
ment. Indeed, it is notorious, that there was scarcely an 
advocate for the federal constitution, who was not anxious, 
from the first, to hazard the experiment of an unprecedented, 
and almost unqualified proportion of democracy, both in con- 
structing and administering the government, and who did not 
I'ely with confidence, if not blind presumption, on its success. 
This is certain, the body of the federalists were always, and yet 
are essentially democratick in their political notions. The truth 
is, the American nation, with ideas and prejudices wholly demo- 
cratick, undertook to frame, and expected tranquilly, and 
with energy and success, to administer a republican govern- 
ment. 

It is, and ever has been my belief, that the federal consti- 
tution was as good, or very nearly as good, as our country 
could bear ; that the attempt to introduce a mixed monarchy was 
never thought of, and would have failed, if it had been made j and 
could have proved only an inveterate curse to the nation, if it had 
been adopted cheerfully, and even unanimously, by the people. 



384 THE DANCERS OP 

Our materials for a government were all democratick, and what- 
ever the hazard of their combination m^^y be, our Solons and 
Lycurguses in the convention liad no alternative, nothing to con- 
sider, but how to combine them, so as to ensure the longest dura- 
tion to the constitution, and the most favourable chance for the 
piiblick liberty in the event of those changes, which the frailty 
of the structure of our government, the operation of time and 
accident, and the maturity and developement of the national 
character were well understood to portend. We should have 
succeeded worse, if we had trusted to our metaphysicks more. 
Experience must be our i^hysiciun, though his medicines may- 
kill. 

The danger obviously was, that a species of government, in 
which the people choose all the rulers, and then, by themselves, 
or ambitious demagogues pretending to be the people, cKam 
and exercise an effective control over what is called the gov- 
ernment, wovild be found on trial no better than a turbulent, 
licentious democracy. The danger was, that their best inter- 
ests would be neglected, their dearest rights violated, their sober 
reason silenced, and the worst passions of the worst men no*^ 
only freed from legal restraint, but invested with puhlick power. 
The known propensity of a democracy is to licentiousness, 
which the ambitious call, and the ignorant believe to be libei'ly. 

The great object, then, of poiidccd wisdom in framing our 
constitution, was to guurd against licentiousness, that inbred 
malady of democracies, that deforms their infancy with grey 
hairs and decrepitude. 

The federalists relied much on the efficiency of an indepen- 
dent judiciary, as a check on the hasty turbulence of the popu- 
lar passions. They supposed the senate proceeding from the 
states, and chosen for six years, would form a sort of bJJ.Lnce to 
the democracy, and realise the hope, that a fedtral rcfiuhlick 
of states might subiist. They counted much on the informa- 
tion of the citizens ; that they would give their unremitted 
attention to public k affairs ; that either dissensions would not 
arise in our happy country, or, if they should, that the citizens 



AMERICAN LIBERTY, 385 

would remain calm, and would walk, like the three Jews in 
Nebuchadnezzar's furnace, unharmed amidst the fires of party. 

It is needless to ask, how rational such hopes were, or how 
far experience has verified them. 

The progress of party has given to Virginia a preponder- 
ance, that, perhaps, was not foreseen. Certainly, since the 
late amendment in the article for the choice of president and 
vice-president, there is no existing provision of any efficacy 
to counteract it. 

The project of arranging states in a federal union, has long- 
been deemed by able writers and statesmen more promising 
than the scheme of a single republick. The experiment, it 
has been supposed, has not yet been fairly tried ; and much 
has been expected from the example of America. 

If states were neither able nor inclined to obstruct the fede- 
ral union, much, indeed, might be hoped from such a confede- 
ration. But Virginia, Pennsylvania, and New-York are of an 
extent sufficient to form potent monarchies, and, of course, 
are too powerful, as well as too proud, to be subjects of the 
federal laws. Accordingly, one of the first schemes of amend- 
ment^ and the most early executed, was, to exempt them in 
form from the obligations of justice. States are not liable to 
be sued. Either the federal head or the powerful members 
must govern. Now, as it is a thing ascertained by experience, 
that the great states are not willing, and cannot be compelled 
to obey the union, it is manifest, that their ambition is most 
singularly invited to aspire to the usvu'pation or control of the 
powers of the confederacy. A confederacy of many states, all 
of them small in extent and population, not only might not 
obstruct, but happily facilitate the federal authority. But the 
late presidential amendment demonstrates the overwhelming 
preponderance of several great states, combining together to 
engross the control of federal affairs. 

There never has existed a federal union, in which the lead- 
ing states were not ambitious to rule, and did not endeavour 
to rule by fomenting factions in the small states, and thus 
engross the management of the federal concerns. Hence it 
49 



386 THE DANGERS OF 

was, that Sparta, at the head of the Peloponnesus, filled all 
Greece with terrour and dissension. In every city she had an 
aristocratical party to kill or to banish the popular faction, that 
Avas devoted to her rivjl, Athens ; so that each city was inhabit- 
ed by two hostile nations, whom no laws of war could control, 
no leagues or treaties bind. Sometimes Athens, sometimes 
Sparta took tlie ascendant, and inOucnced the decrees of the 
famous Amphyctionick council, the boasted federal head of 
the Grecian repviblicks. But at all times that head was wholly 
destitute of authority, except when violent and sanguinary mea- 
sures were dictated to it by some preponderant member. The 
small states were immediately reduced to an absolute nullity, 
and were subject to the most odious of all oppressions, the 
domination of one state over another state. 

The Grecian states, forming the Amphyctionick league, 
. composed the most illustrious federal republick that ever 
existed. Its dissolution and ruin were brought about by the 
operation of the principles and passions, that are inhei'ent in 
all such associations. The Thebans, one of the leading states, 
uniting with the Thcssalians, both animated by jealousy and 
resentment against the Phocians, procured a decree of the 
council of the Amphyctions, where their joint influence pre- 
dominated, as that of ^''irginia now does in congress, condemn- 
ing the Phocians to a heavy fine for some pretended sacrilege 
thev had committed on the lands consecrated to the temple 
of Delphi. Finding the Phocians, as they expected and wish- 
ed, not inclined to submit, by a second decree they devoted 
their lands to the god of that temple, and called upon all 
Greece to arm in their sacred cause, for so they aifected to 
call it. A contest thus began, which was doubly sanguinary, 
because it combined the characters of a religious and civil war, 
and I'aged for more than ten years. In the progress -of it, the 
famous Philip of Macedon found means to introduce himself 
as a party ; and the nature of his measures, as well as their 
final success, is an everlasting warning to all federal repub- 
Jicks. He appears from the fii'st moment of his reign to have 



AMERICAN LIBERTY. 387 

lilanned the subjugation of Greece ; and in two and twenty 
years he accomplished his purpose. 

After having made his escape from the city of Thebes, 
where he had been a hostage, he had to recover his hereditary 
kingdom, weakened by successive defeats, and distracted with 
factions, from foreign invaders and from two dangerous com- 
petitors of his throne. As soon as he became powerful, his 
restless ambition sought every opportunity to intermeddle in 
the affairs of Greece, in respect to which Macedonia was con- 
sidered an alien, and the sacred war soon furnished it. Invit- 
ed by the Thessalians to assist them against the Phocians, he 
pretended an extraordinary zeal for religion, as well as respect 
for the decree of the Amphyctions. Like more modern de- 
magogues, he made use of his popularity first to prepare the 
way for his arms. He had no great difficulty in subduing 
them ; and obtained for his reward another Amphyctionick de- 
cree, by which the vote of Phocis was for ever transferred to 
Philip and his descendants. Philip soon after took possession 
of the pass of Thermopylae, and within eight yeai's turned his 
arms against those very Thebans, whom he had before assist- 
ed. They had no refuge in the federal union, Avhich they had 
helped to enfeeble. They -were utterly defeated ; Thebes, the 
pride of 'Greece, was razed to the ground ; the citizens were 
sold into slavery ; and the national liberties vt'ere extinguish- 
ed for ever. 

Here let Americans read their own history. Here let 
even Virginia learn, how perilous and how frail will be the 
consummation of her schen)es. Powerful states, that com- 
bine to domineer over the Aveak, will be inevitably divided by 
their success, and ravaged with civil war, often baflled, always 
agitated by intrigue, shaken with alarms, and finally involved 
in one common slavery and ruin, of which they are no less' 
conspicuously the artificers than the victims. 

If, in the nature of things, there could be any experience, 
which would be extensively instructive, but our own, all his- 
tory lies open for our^ warning, open like a church-yard, all 
whose lessons are solemn, and chiseled for eternitv in thf 



388 THE DANGERS OP 

hard stone, lessons that Avhisper, O ! that they could thunder 
to republicks, " your passions and vices forbid you to be free." 

But experience, though she teaches wisdom, teaches it too 
late. The most signal events pass away unprofitably for the 
generation, in which they occur, till at length a people, deaf 
lo the things that belong to its peace, is destroyed or enslaved, 
because it will not be instructed. 

From these reflections the political observer will infer, that 
the American republick is impelled by the force of state am- 
bition and of democratick licentiousness ; and he will inquire, 
nvhich of the two is our strongest propensity. Is the sovereign 
power to be contracted to a state centre ? Is Virginia to be our 
Rome ? and are we to be her Latin or Italian allies, like them 
to be emulous of the honour of our chains, on the terms of 
imposing them on Louisiana, Mexico, or Santa Fe ? Or, are 
we to run the giddy circle of popular licentiousness, begin- 
ning in delusion, quickened by vice, and ending in wretched- 



ness 



But, though these two seem to be contrary impulses, it 
will appear, nevertheless, on examination, that they really lead 
to but one result. 

The great state of Virginia has fomented a licentious spirit 
among all her neighbours. Her citizens imagine, that they 
are democrats, and their abstract theories are in fact demo- 
cratick ; but their state policy is that of a genuine aristocracy 
or oligarchy. Whatever their notions or their state practice 
may be, their policy, as it respects the other states, is to throw 
all power into the hands of democratick zealots or jacobin 
knaves ; for some of these may be deluded and others bought 
to promote her designs. And, even independently of a direct 
Virginia influence, every state factioii will find its account in 
courting the alliance and promoting the views of this great 
leader. Those who labour to gain a factious power in a state, 
and those who aspire to get a paramount jurisdiction over it, 
will not be slow to discern, that they have a common cause to 
pursue. 



AMERICAN LIBERTY. 389 

Isj the intermediate progress of our affairs, the ambition of 
Virginia may be gratified. So long as popular licentiousness 
is operating with no lingering industry to effect our yet un- 
finished ruin, she may flourish the whip of dominion in her 
hands ; but, as soon as it is accomplished, she will be the asso- 
ciate of our shame, and bleed under its lashes. For demo- 
cratick license leads not to a monarchy regulated by laws, but 
to the ferocious despotism of a chieftain, who owes his eleva- 
tion to arms and violence, and leans on his sword as the only prop 
of his dominion. Such a conqueror, jealous and fond of no- 
thing but his power, will care no more for Virginia, though he 
may rise by Virginia, than Buonaparte does for Corsica. Vir- 
ginia will then find, that, like ancient Thebes, she has worked 
for Philip, and forged her own fetters. 

There are few, even among the democrats, ivho ivill doubt, 
though to a man they will deny, that the ambition of that state 
is inordinate, and, unless seasonably counteracted, will be fatal ; 
yet they will persevere in striving for power in their states, 
before they think it necessary, or can find it convenient to at- 
tend to her encroachments. 

But there are not many, perhaps not five hundred, even among 
the federalists, who yet allow themselves to view tlie progress 
of licentiousness as so speedy, so sure, and so fatal as the de- 
plorable experience of our country shews that it is, and the 
evidence of history and the constitution of human nature de- 
monstrate that it must be. 

The truth is, such an opinion, admitted with all the terrible 
light of its proof, no less shocks our fears than our vanity, no 
less disturbs our quiet than our prejudices. We ai-e sum- 
moned by the tocsin to every perilous and painful duty. Our 
days are made heavy with the pressure of anxiety, and oiu' 
nights restless with visions of horrour. We listen to the 
clank of chains, and overhear the whispers of assassins. We 
mark the barbai'ous dissonance of mingled rage and triumph 
in the yell of an infatuated mob ; we see the dismal glare of 
their burnings and scent the loathsome steam of human vic- 
tims offered in sacrifice. 



590 THE DANGERS 01' 

These reflections may account for the often lamented 
blindness, us ■well as apathy of om* well-disposed citizens. 
Who would choose to study the tremendous records of the 
fates, or to remain long in the dungeon of the furies ? Who, 
that is penetrating enough to foresee our scarcely hidden des- 
tiny, is hardy enough to endure its anxious contemplation ? 

It may not long be more safe to disturb, than it is easy to 
enlighten the democratick faith in regard to our political pro- 
pensities, since it will neither regard ^vhat is obvious, nor yield 
to the impression of events, even after they have happened. 
The thoughtless and ignorant care for nothing but the name 
of liberty, which is as much the end as the instrument of 
party, and equally fills up the measure of their comprehension 
and desires. According to the conception of such men, the pvib- 
lick liberty can never perish : it will enjoy immortality, like the 
dead in the memory of the living. We have heard the French 
prattle about its rights, and seen them swagger in the fancied 
possession of its distinctions, long after they were crushed by the 
weight of their chains. The Romans were not only amused, but 
really made vain, by the boast of their liberty, while they sweated 
and trembled under the despotism of emperours, the most 
odious monsters that ever infested the earth. It is remarkable, 
that Cicero, with all his dignity and good sense, found it a popu- 
lar seasoning of his harangue, six years after Julius Cesar had 
established a monarchy, and only six months before Octavius. 
totally subverted the commonwealth, to say : " it is not possible 
for the people of Rome to be slaves, whom the gods have 
destined to the command of all nations. Other nation^ may 
endure slavery, but the proper end and business of the Roman 
people is liberty." 

This very opinion in regard to the destinies of our country 
is neither less extensively diffused, nor less solidly established. 
Such men will persist in thinking our liberty cannot be in 
danger, till it is irretrievably lost. It is even the boast of mul- 
titudes, that our system of govei-nment is a pure democracy. 

What is there left, that can check its excesses or retard 
the velocity of its fall ? Not the control of the several states, 



AMERICAN LIBERTY. 391 

lor they already whirl in tlie vortex of faction ; and, of conse- 
quence, not the senate, which is appointed by the states. 
Surely not the judiciary, for we cannot expect the office of 
the priesthood from the victim at the altar. Are we to be 
sheltered by the force of ancient manners? Will this be 
sufficient to control the two evil spirits of license and innova- 
tion ? Where is any vestige of those manners left, but in New- 
England ? and even in New-England their authority is con- 
tested and their purity debased. Are our civil and reiigiouSi 
institutions to stand so firmly, as to sustain themselves and so 
much of the fabrick of the publick order as is propped by their 
support ? On the contrary, do we not find the ruling faction 
in avowed hostility to our religious institutions ? In eftect, 
though not in form, their protection is abandoned by our laws, 
and confided to the steadiness of sentiment and fashion ; and, 
if they are still powerful auxiliaries of lawful authority, it is 
owing to the tenaciousness, with which even a degenerate peo^ 
pie maintain their habits, and to a yet remaining, though im- 
paired veneration for the maxims of our ancestors. We are 
changing, and, if democracy triumphs in New-England, it is 
to be apprehended, that in a few years we shall be as prone to 
disclaim our great progenitors, as they, if they should return 
again to the earth, with grief and shame to disown their de- 
g-enerate descendants. 

Is the turbulence of our democracy to be restrained by pre- 
ferring to the magistracy only the grave and upright, the men 
who profess the best moral and religious principles, and whose 
lives bear testimqny in favour of their profession, whose virtues 
inspire confidence, whose services, gratitude, and whose talents 
command admiration ? Such magistrates would add dignity to 
the best government, and disarm the malignity of the worst. 
But the bare moving of this question will be imderstood as a 
sarcasm by men of both parties. The powers of impudence it- 
self are scarcely adequate to say, that our magistrates are such 
men. The atrocities of a distinguished tyrant might provoke 
satire to string his bow, and with the arrow of Philoctetes to 
inflict the immedicable wound. We have no Juvenal ; and if 



39^ THE DANGERS Of 

we had, he would scorn to dissect the vice that wants firmness 
for the knife, to elevate that he might hit his object, and to 
dignify low profligacy to be the vehicle of a loathsome immor- 
tality. 

It never has happened in the world, and it never will, that 
a democracy has been kept out of the control of the fiercest 
and most turbulent spirits in the society ; they will breathe 
into it all their own fury, and make it subservient to the worst 
designs of the worst men. 

Although it does not appear, that the science of good gov- 
ernment has made any advances since the invention of print- 
ing, it is nevertheless the opinion of many, that this art has 
risen, like another sun in the sky, to shed new light and joy 
on the political world. The press, however, has left the un- 
derstanding of the mass of men just where it found it ; but, by 
supplying an endless stimulus to their imagination and passi- 
ons, it has rendered their temper and habits infinitely worse. 
It has inspired ignorance with presumption, so that those who 
cannot be governed by reason, are no longer to be awed by 
authority. The many, who before the art of printing never 
mistook in a case of oppression, because they complained 
from their actual sense of it, have become susceptible of 
every transient enthusiasm and of more than Avomanish fickle- 
ness of caprice. Publick affairs are transacted now on a stage^ 
where all the interest and passions grow out of fiction, or are 
inspired by the art, and often controlled at the pleasure of the 
actors. The press is a new and, certainly, a powerful agent in 
human affairs. It will change, but it is difiicult to conceive 
how, by rendering men indocile and presumptuous, it ca?i change 
societies for the better. They are pervaded by its heat and 
kept for ever restless by its activity. While it has impaired 
the force that eveiy just government can employ in self- 
defence, it has imparted to its enemies the secret of that 
wildfire, that blazes with the most consuming fierceness on 
attempting to quench it. 

Shall we then be told, that the press will constitute an ade- 
(^uate check to the progress of every species of tyranny ? Is it 



AMERICAN LIBERTY. 393 

to be denied, that the press has been the base and venal instru- 
ment of the very men whom it ought to gibbet to universal 
abhorrence ? While they were climbing to power, it aided their 
ascent ; and now they have reached it, does it not conceal or 
justify their abominations ? Or, while it is confessed, that the 
majority of citizens form their ideas of men and measures 
almost solely from the light that reaches them through the 
magick lantern of the press, do our comforters still depend 
on the all-restoring, all-preserving power of general informa- 
tion ? and are they not destitute of all this^ or rather of any 
better information themselves, if they can urge this vapid non- 
sense in the midst of a yet spreading political delusion, in the 
midst of the " palpable obscure" that settles on the land, from 
believing what is fulse, and misconstruing what is true ? Can they 
believe all this, when they consider how much truth is impe- 
ded by party on its way to the pubiick understanding, and even 
after having reached it, how much it still falls short of its pro- 
per mark, v^hile it leaves the envious, jealous, vindictive will 
imconquered I 

Our mistake, and in which we choose to persevere, be- 
cause our vanity shrinks from the detection, is, that in political 
affairs, by only determining what men ought to think, we are 
sure how they ^\iil act; and when we know the facts, and are 
assiduous to collect and present the evidence, we dupe our- 
selves with the expectation, that, as there is but one result 
which wise men can believe, there is but one course of con- 
duct deduced from it, which honest men can approve or pur- 
sue. We forget, that in framing the judgment every passion 
is both an advocate and a witness. We lay out of our account, 
how much essential information there is that never reaches 
the multitude, and of the mutilated portion that does, how 
much is unwelcome to party prejudice ; and, therefore, that 
they may still maintain their opinions, they withhold their at- 
tention. We seem to suppose, while millions raise so loud 
a cry about their sovereign power, and really concentre both 
their faith and their affections in party, that the bulk of man- 
kind will regard no counsels, but such as ^re suggested by 
• 50 



394 THE DANGERS OF 

their conscience. Let us dia-e to speak out ; is there any sin- 
gle despot wlio avowedly holds himself so superiour to its dic- 
tates ? 

But our mcmners arc too viild^ they tell us, for a democracy- 
then democracy will change those manners. Our morals arc 
too fiure — then it will corrupt them. 

W HAT, then, is the necessary conclusion from the view we 
have taken of the insufficiency or extinction of all conceivable 
checks I It is such as ought to strike terrour, but will scarcely 
raise publick curiosity. 

Is it not possible, then, it will be asked, to write and ai'gue 
down opinions that are so mischievous and only plausible, and 
men who are even more profligate than exalted ? Can we not 
persu..de our citizens to be republican again, so as to rebuild 
the spicndid ruins of the state on the Washington foundation ? 
I'hus it is, that we resolve to perpetuate our own delusions, 
and to cherish our still frustrated and confuted hopes. Let 
onlii ink in ugh be i,/i(d, and let democracy rage, there will be no 
blood. Though the evil is fixed in our nature, all, we think, 
will be safe, because we fancy we can see a remedy floating in 
our opinions. 

It is undoubtedly a salutary labour, to diffuse among the 
citizens of a free stttte, as far as the thing is possible, a just 
knowledge of their publick affairs. But the difficulty of this 
task is augmented exactly in proportion to the freedom of the 
state ; for the more free the citizens, the bolder and more pro* 
fli'i-ate will be their demagogues, the more numerous and 
eccentrick the popular errours, and the more vehement and 
pertinacious the passions that defend them. 

Yet, as if there were neither vice nor passion in the world, 
one of the loudest of our boasts, one of the dearest of all the 
tenets of our creed is, that we are a sovereign people, self- 
governfd — ic would be nearer truth to say, self-conceited. For 
in what sense is it true, that any people, however free, are 
seif-governed I If they have in fact no government, but such as 
comports with their ever varying and often inordinate desires, 
then it is anarchy ; if it counteracts those desires, it is com- 



AMERICAN LIBERTY. 395 

pulsory. The individual, who is left to act according to his 
own iuimour, is not governed at all ; and if any considerable 
number, and especially any combination of individuals, find or 
can place themselves in this situation, then the society o 
longer free. For liberty obviously consists in the salutary 
restraint, and not in the uncontrolled indulgence of • ch ha- 
mours. Now of all desires, none will so much need res r int, 
or so impatiently endure it, as those of the ambitious^ who -.vill 
form factions, first to elude, then to rival, and finally to usurp 
the powers of the state ; and of the tsons of vice, who are t e 
enemies of law, because no just law can be their friend. The 
first want to govern the state ; and the others, that the stdte 
should not govern them. A sense of common interest will 
soon incline these two original factions of every free state to 
coalesce into one. 

So far as men are swayed by authority, or impelled or excit- 
ed by their fears and affections, they naturally search for some 
persons as the sources and objects of these effects and emotions. 
It is pretty enough to say, the repubiick coinmands, and the 
love of the repubiick dictates obedier.ce to the heart of every 
citizen. This is system, but is it nature ? The repubiick is a 
creature of fiction ; it is every body in the fancy, but nobody 
in the heart. Love, to be any thing, must be select and exclu- 
sive. We may as well talk of loving geometry as the common- 
wealth. Accordingly, there are many who seldom try to reason, 
and are the most misled when they do. Such men are, of 
necessity, governed by their prejudices. They neither com- 
prehend nor like any thing of a repubiick, but their party and 
their leaders. These last are persons, capable of meriting,, at 
least of knowing and rewarding their zeal and exertions. 
Hence it is, that the republicanism of a great mass of people 
is often nothing more, than a blind trust in certain favourites, 
and a no less blind and still more furious hatred of their ene- 
mies. Thus, a free society, by the very nature of liberty, is 
often ranged into rival factions, who mutually practise and suf- 
fer delusion by the abuse of the best names, but Avho reallv 
contend for nothing but the pre-eminence of their leaders. 



3Se THB DANGERS OF 

In a democracy, the elevation of an equal convinces many, 
if not all, that the height to which he is raised is not inaccessi- 
ble. Ambition wakes from its long sleep in eveiy soul, and 
wakes, like one of Milton's fallen angels, to turn its tortures 
into weapons against the pubiick order. The multitude behold 
their favourite with eyes of love and wonder ; and with the 
more of both, as he is a new favourite, and owes his greatness 
wholly to their favour. Who among the little does not swell 
into greatness, when he thus reflects, that he has assisted to 
make great men ? And who of the popular favourites loses a 
minute to flatter this vanity in every brain, till it turns it ? 

The late equals of the new-made chief behold his rise with 
very diff"erent emotions. They view him near, and have long 
been accustomed to look behind the disguises of his hypocrisy. 
They know his vices and his foibles, and that the foundations 
of his fame are as false and hollow as his professions. Never- 
theless, it maybe their interest or their necessity to serve him 
for a time. But the instant they can supplant him, they will spare 
neither intrigues nor violence to effect it. Thus, a democra- 
tick system in its very nature teems with faction and revolution. 
Yet, though it continually tends to shift its head, its character 
is immutable. Its constancy is in change. 

The theory of a democracy supposes, that the will of the 
people ought to prevail, and that, as the majority possess not 
only the better right, but the superiour force, of course, it will 
prevail. A greater force, they argue, will inevitably overcome 
a less. When a constitution provides, with an imposing solem- 
nity of detail, for the collection of the opinions of a majority of 
the citizens, every sanguine reader not only becomes assured, 
that the will of the people must prevail, but he goes further, 
and refuses to examine the reasons, and to excuse the incivism 
and presvmnption of those who can doubt of this inevitable 
result. Yet common sense and our own recent experience 
have shewn, that a combination of a very small minority can 
effectually defeat the authority of the national will. The votes 
of a majority may sometimes, though not invariably, shew what 
ought to be done ; but to awe or subdue the force of a thou- 



AMERICAN LIBERTY. 397 

sand men, the government must call out the superiour force 
of two thousand men. It is, therefore, established the very 
instant it is brought to the test, that the mere will of a majority 
is inefficient and without authority. And as to employing a 
supei'iour force to procure obedience, which a democratick 
govei^nment has an undoubted right to do, and so, indeed, has 
eveiy other, it is obvious, that the admitted necessity of this 
resort completely overthrows all the boasted advantages of the 
democratick system. For, if obedience cannot be procured by 
I'eason, it must be obtained by compulsion ; and this is exactly 
what every other government will do in a like case. 

Still, however, the friends of the democratick theory will 
maintain, that this dire resort to force will be exceedingly 
rare, because the publick reason will be more clearly express- 
ed and more respectfully understood, than under any other 
form of government. The citizens will be, of course, self-gov- 
erned, as it will be their choice as well as duty to obey the 
laws. 

It has been already remarked, that the refusal of a very 
small minority to obey, will render force necessaiy. It has 
been also noted, that, as every mass of people will inevitably 
desire a favourite, and fix their trust and affections upon one, 
it clearly follows, that there will be, of course, a faction op- 
posed to the publick will, as expressed in the laws. Now, if 
a faction is once admitted to exist in a state, the disposition 
and the means to obstruct the laws, or, in other words, the will of 
the majority, must be perceived to exist also. If, then, it be 
true, that a democratick government is of all the most liable 
to faction, which no man of sense will deny, it is manifest, that 
it is, from its very nature, obliged more than any other gov- 
ernment to resort to force to overcome or awe the power of 
faction. This latter will continually employ its own power, 
that acts always against the physical force of the nation, which 
can be brought to act only in extrem.e cases, and then, like 
every extreme remedy, aggravates the evil. For, let it be 
noted, a regular government by overcoming an unsuccessful 
insurrection becomes stronger ; but elective rulers can scarcely 



398 THE DANGERS OF 

ever employ the physical force of a democracy, without turn- 
ing the moral force, or the power of opinion, against the gov- 
ernment. So that faction is not unfreouently made to triumph 
from its own defeats, and to avenge in the disgrace and blood 
of magistrates the crime of their fidelity to the laws. 

As the boastful pretensions of the democratick system can- 
not be too minutely exposed, another consideration must be 
given to the subject. 

That government certainly deserves no honest man's love 
or support, which, fi-om the very laws of its being, carries ter- 
rour and danger to the virtuous, and arms the vicious with 
authority and power. The essence and, in the opinion of 
many thousands not yet cured of their delusions, the excellence 
of democracy is, that it invests every citizen with an e mal pro- 
portion of power. A state consisting of a million of citizens 
has a million sovereigns, each of whom detests all other sov- 
ereignty but his own. This very boast implies as much of the 
spirit of turbulence and insubordination, as the utmost energy 
of any knoAvn regular government, even the most rigid, could 
keep in restraint. It also implies a state of agitation, that is 
justly terrible to all who love their ease, and of instability, that 
quenches tlie last hope of those who would transmit their lib- 
erty to posterity. Waving any further pursuit of these reflec- 
tions, let it be resumed, that, if every man of the million has 
his ratable share of power in the community, then, instead of 
restraining the -vicious^ they also are armed with power, . for 
they take their part : as they are citizens, this cannot be re- 
fused them. Now, as they have an interest in preventing the 
execution of the laws, which, in fact, is the apparent common 
interest of their whole class, their union will happen of course. 
The very first moment that they do unite, which it is ten 
thousand to one will happen before the form of the demociacy is 
agreed upon, and whiie its plausible constitution is framing, 
that moment they form a faction, and the pretended efficacy of 
the democratick system, which is to operate by the power of 
opinioji and persuasipn, comes to an end. lor an imperium in 
imperio exists ; there is a state within the state, a combina- 



AMERICAN LIBERTY. 399 

tion interested and active iia hindering the will of the majority 
from being obeyed. 

But the vicious^ we shall be told, are very few in such an 
honest nation as the American. How many of our states did, in 
fact, pass laws to obstruct the lawful operation of the treaty of 
peace in 1783 ? and were the virtuous men of those states the 
framers and advocates of those laws ? What shall we denomi- 
nate the oligarchy that sways the authority of Virginia ? Who is 
ignorant, that the ruling power have an intei'est to oppose jus- 
tice to creditors? Surely, after these ^ac^s are remembered, no 
man will say, the faction of the vicious is a chimera of the 
writer's brain ; nor, admitting it to be real, will he deny, that 
it has proved itself potent. 

It is not however the faction of debtors only, that is to be 
expected to arise under a democracy. Every bad passion that 
dreads restraint from the laws will seek impunity and indul- 
gence in faction. The associates will not come together in 
cold blood. They will not, like their federal adversaries, yawn 
over the contemplation of their cause, and shrink from the 
claim of its necessary perils and sacrifices. They will do all 
that can possibly be done, and they will attempt more. They 
will begin early, persevere long, ask no respite for themselves, 
and are sure to triumph, if their enemies take any. Suppose 
at first their numbers to be exceedingly few, their efforts will 
for that reason be so much the greater. They will call them- 
selves the people ; they will in their name arraign every act of 
government as wicked and weak ; they will oblige the rulers 
to stand for ever on the defensive, as culprits at the bar of an 
offended publick With a venal press at command, concealing 
their number and their infamy, is it to be doubted, that the 
ignorant will soon or late unite with the vicious ? Their union 
is inevitable ; and, when united, those allies are powerful 
enough to strike terrour into the hearts of the firmest rulers. 
It is in vain, it is indeed childish to say, that an enlightened 
people will understand their own aff^rs, and thus the acts of a 
faction wiii be baffled. No people on earth are or can be so 
enlightened, as to tlie details of political affairs. To study 



400 THE DANGERS OP , 

politicks, so as to know correctly the force of the reasons for 
a large part of the publick measures, would stop the labour of 
the plough and the hammer ; and how are these million of 
students to have access to the means of information ? 

When it is thus apparent, that the vicious will have as many 
opportunities as inducements to inflame and deceive, it results 
from the nature of democracy, that the ignorant will join, and 
the ambitious will lead their combination. Who, then, will 
deny, that the vicious are armed with power, and the virtuous 
exposed to persecution and peril ? 

If a sense of their danger compel these latter, at length, to 
unite also in self-defence, it will be late, probably, too late, 
without means to animate and cement their union, and with no 
hope beyond that of protracting, for a short time, the certain 
catastrophe of their destruction, which, in fact, no democracy 
has ever yet failed to accomplish. 

If, then, all this is to happen, not from accident, not, as the 
shallow or base demagogues pretend, from the management of 
monarchists or aristocrats, but from the principles of democra- 
cy itself, as %ve have attempted to demonstrate, ought wc not 
to consider democracy as the worst of all governments, or, if 
there be a worse, as the certain forerunner of that ? What 
other form of civil rule among men so irresistibly tends to free 
vice from restraint, and to subject virtue to persecution ? 

The common supposition is, and it is ever assumed as the 
basis of argument, that in a democracy the laws have only to 
command indi-viduals, who yield a willing and conscientious 
obedience ; and who would be destitute of the force to resist, 
if they should lack the disposition to submit. But this suppo- 
sition, which so constantly triumphs in the newspapers, utterly 
fails in the trial, in our republick, which we do not denominate 
a democracy. To collect the tax on Virgijiia coaches, we have 
had to exert all the judicial power of the nation ; and after that 
had prevailed, popularity was found a greater treasure than 
money, and the carriage tax was repealed. The tax on whis- 
key was enforced by an army, and no sooner had its receipts 
begun to reimburse the charges of government, and, in some 



AMERICAN UBERTY. 401 

Tiieasure, to equalise the Northern and Southern burdens, but 
the law is annulled. 

With the example of two rebellions against our revenue 
laws, it cannot be denied, that our republick claims the sub- 
mission, not merely of weak individuals, but of powerful com- 
binations, of those whom distance, numbers, and enthusiasm 
embolden to deride its authority and defy its arms. A fac- 
tion is a sort of empire within the empire, which acts by its 
own magistrates and laws, and prosecutes interests not only 
unlike, but destructive to those of the nation. The federalists 
are accused of attempting to impart too much energy to the 
administration, and of stripping, with too much severity, all 
such combinations of their assumed importance. Hence it is 
ridiculously absurd to denominate the federalists, the admirers 
and disciples of Washington, a faction. 

But we shall be told, in defiance both of fact and good sense, 
that factions will not exist, or will be impotent, if they do ; for 
the majority have a right to govern, and certainly will govern 
by their representatives. Let their right be admitted, but they 
certainly will no( govern, in either of two cases, both fairly 
supposeable, and likely, nay sure to happen in succession : 
that a section of country, a combination, party, or faction, call 
it what you will, shall prove daring and potent enough to ob- 
struct the laws and to exempt itself from their operudon ; or, 
growing bolder with impunity and success, finally by art, deceit, 
and perseverance to force its chiefs into power, and thus, in- 
stead of submitting to the government, to bring the govern- 
ment into submission to a faction. Then the forms and the 
names of a republick will be used, and used more ostentatiously 
than ever ; but its principles will be abused, and its ramparts 
and defences laid flat to the ground. 

There ai-e many, who, believing that a pen-full of ink can 
impart a deathless energy to a constitution, and having seen, 
with pride and joy, two or three skins of parchment added, like 
new walls about a fortress, to our own, will be filled with 
astonishment, and say, is not our legislature divided ? our exe- 
cutive single ? our judiciary independent ? , Have Me not 
51 



403 THE DANGERS OF 

amendments and bills of rights, excelling all compositions in. 
prose ? Where, then, can our danger lie ? Our government, 
so we read, is constructed in svich a manner as to defend itself, 
and the people. We have the gi'eatest political security, for 
we have adopted the soundest principles. 

To most grown children, therefore, the existence of faction 
will seem chimerical. Yet did any free state ever exist with- 
out the most painful and protracted conflicts with this foe ? or 
expire any otherwise than by his triumph ? The spring is not 
more genial to the grain and fruits than to insects and vermin. 
The same sun that decks the fields with flowers, thaws out 
the serpent in the fen, and concocts his poison. Surely, we are 
not the people to contest this position. Our present liberty was 
born into the world under the knife of this assassin, and now 
limps a cripple from his violence. 

As soon as such a faction is known to subsist in force, we 
shall be told, the people may, and because they iTiay, they 
surely will rally to discomfit and punish the conspirators. If 
the whole people in a body are to do this as often as it may be 
necessary, then it seems our political plan is to carry on our 
government by successive, or rather incessant revolutions. 
W^hen the people deliberate and act in person, laying aside 
the plain truth, that it is impossible they should, all delegated 
authority is at an end : the representatives would be nothing in 
the presence of their assembled constituents. Thus falls or 
stops the machine of a regular government. Thus a faction, hos- 
tile to the government, would ensure their success by the very 
remedy that is supposed effectual to disappoint their designs. 

Men of a just way of thinking will be ready to renounce 
the opinions we have been considering, and to admit, that 
liberty is lost, where faction domineers ; that some security 
must be provided against its attacks ; and that no elective 
government can be secure or orderly, unless it be invested by 
the constitution itself with the means of self-defence. It is 
enough for the people to approve the lawful use of them. And 
this for a f7'ee government must be the easiest thing in the 
-world. 



n- 



AMERICAN LIBERTY. 403 

Now, the contrary of this last opinion is the truth. By z.free 
government this difficulty is nearly or quite insuperable ; for 
the audaciousness and profligacyof faction is ever in proportion 
to the liberty of the political constitution. In a tyranny indi- 
viduals are nothing. Conscious of their nothingness, the spirit 
of liberty is torpid or extinct. But in a free state there is, 
necessarily, a great mass of power left in the hands of the citi- 
zens, with the spirit to use and the desire to augment it. 
Hence will proceed an infinity of clubs and associations, for 
purposes often laudable or harmless, but not unfrequently ac- 
tions. It is obvious, that the combination of some hundreds or 
thousands for political ends will produce a great aggregate 
stock or mass of power. As by combining they greatly aug- 
ment their power, for that veiy reason they will combine ; and, 
as magistrates would seldom like to devolve their authority 
upon volunteers, who might offer to play the magistrate in 
their stead, there is almost nothing left for a band of combined 
citizens to do, but to discredit and obstruct the government and 
laws. The possession of power by the magistrate is not so sure 
to produce respect as to kindle envy ; and to the envious it is 
a gratification to humble those who are exalted. But the am- 
bitious find the publick discontent a passport to office — then 
they must breed or inflame discontent. We have the exam- 
ple before our eyes. 

Is it not evident, then, that a free government must exert a 
great deal more power to obtain obedience from an extensive 
combination or faction, than would be necessary to extort it 
from a much larger number of uncombined individuals ? If the 
regular government has that degree of power, which, let it be 
noted, the jealousy of a free people often inclines them to with- 
hold ; and if it should exercise its power with promptness and 
spirit, a supposition not a little improbable, for such govern- 
ments frequently have more strength than firmness, then the 
faction may be, for that time, repressed and kept from doing 
mischief. It will, however, instantly change its pretexts and 
its means, and renew the contest with more art and caution, 
and with the advantage of all the discontents, which every consi- 



404 THE DANGERS OF 

erable popular agitation is sure to multiply and to embitter. 
This immortal enemy, whom it is possible to bind, though only 
for a time, and in flaxen chains, but not to kill ; who may be 
baffled, but cannot be disarmed ; who is never weakened by 
defeat, nor discouraged by disappointment, agidn tries and wears 
out the strength of the government and the temper of the peo- 
ple. It is a gaine which the factious will never be weary of 
playing, because they play for an empire, yet on their own part 
hazard nothing. If they fail, they lose only their ticket, and say, 
draw your lottery again ; if they win, as in the end they must 
and will, if the constitution has not provided within, or unless 
the people will bring, Avhich they will not long, from without^ 
some energy to hinder their sviccess, it will be complete ; for 
conquering parties never content themselves with half the fruits 
of victory. Their power once obtained can be and will be con- 
firmed by nothing but the terrour or weakness of the real peo- 
ple. Justice will shrink from the bench, and tremble at her 
own bar. 

As property is the object of the great mass of every faction, 
the rules that keep it sacred will be annulled, or so far shaken, 
as to bring enough of it within the grasp of the dominant party 
to reward their partisans with booty. But the chieftains, thirst- 
ing only for dominion, will search for the means of extending 
or establishing it. They will, of course, innovate, till the ves- 
tiges of private right, and of restraints on publick authority, 
are effaced ; until the real people are stripped of all privilege 
and influence, and become even more abject and spiritless than 
■weak. The many may be deluded, but the success of a faction 
is ever the victory of a few ; and the power of the few can be 
supported by nothing but force. This catastrophe is fatal. 

The people, it will be thought, will see their errour, and 
return. But there is no return to liberty. 'What the fire of 
faction does not destroy, it will debase. Those, who have once 
tasted of the cup of sovereignty, will be unfitted to be subjects ; 
and those, who have not, will scarcely form a wish beyond the 
unmolested ignominy of slaves. 



AMERICAN LIBERTY. 405 

But will those who scorn to live at all, unless they can live 
free, will these noble spirits abandon the pubiick cause ? Will 
they not break their chains on the heads of their oppressors ? 
Suppose they attempt it, then we have a civil war ; and when po- 
litical diseases require the sword, the remedy will kill. Tyrants 
may be dethroned, and usurpers expelled and punished ; but 
the sword, once drawn, cannot be sheathed. Whoever holds it, 
must rule by it ; and that rule, though victory should give it 
to the best men and the honestest cause, cannot be liberty. 
Though painted as a goddess, she is mortal, and her spirit, 
once severed by the sword, can be evoked no more from the 
shades. 

Is this catastrophe too distant to be viewed, or too improba- 
ble to be dreaded ? I should not think it so formidably near as 
I do, if in the short interval of impending fate, in which alone 
it can be of any use to be active, the heart of every honest man 
in tlie nation, or even in New-England, was penetrated with 
the anxiety that oppresses my own *. Then the subversion of 
the public liberty would at least be delayed, if it could not be 
prevented. Her maladies might be palliated, if not cured. She 
might long drag on the life of an invalid, instead of soon suf- 
fering the death of a martyr. 

The soft, timid sons of luxury love liberty as well as it is 
possible they should, to love pleasure better. They desire to 
sleep in security, and to enjoy protection, without being molest- 
ed to give it. Whi'e all, who are not devoted to pleasure, are 
eager in the pursuit of wealth, how will it be possible to rouse 
such a spirit of liberty, as can alone secure, or prolong its pos- 
session ? For if in the extraordinary perils of the republick, the 
citizens will not kindle with a more than ordinary, with a 
heroick flame, its cause will be abandoned without effort, and 
lost beyond redemption. But if the faithful votaries of liberty, 
uncertain what counsels to follow, should, for the present, 

* Thi« short paragraph explains tlie writer's motive for presenting such a gloomy pic- 
ture of the affairs of our countiy. He Uopecl, by aUivminfj tlie_bonest part of our citizens, 
fo defer, or mitigate oitr fate. 



406 THE DANGERS OF 

withhold their exertions, will they not at least bestow their 
attention ? Will they not fix it, with an unusual intensity of 
thought, upon the scene ; and will they not fortify their nerves 
to contemplate a prospect that is shaded with horrour, and 
already flashes with tempest ? 

If the positions laid down as theory could be denied, the 
brief history of the federal administration would establish them. 
It was first confided to the truest, and purest patriot that ever 
lived. It succeeded a period, dismal and dark, and, like the 
morning- sun, lighted up a sudden splendour, that was gratui- 
tous, for it consumed nothing, but its genial rays cherished 
the powers of vegetation, while they displayed its exuberance. 
There was no example, scarcely a pretence of oppression ; yet 
faction, basking in those rays, and sucking venom from the 
ground, even then cried out, " O sun, I tell thee, how I hate thy 
beams." Faction was organized sooner than the government. 

If the most urgent publick reasons could ever silence or 
satisfy the spirit of faction, the adoption of the new constitu- 
tion would have been prompt and unanimous. The govern- 
ment of a great nation had barely revenue enough to buy sta- 
tionary for its clerks, or to pay the salary of the door-keeper. 
Publick faith and publick force were equally out of the ques- 
tion, for as it respected either authority or resources, the cor- 
poration of a college, or the inissionary society were greater 
potentates than congress. Our federal government had not 
merely fcdlen into imbecility and, of course, into contempt, 
but the oligarchical factions in the large states had actually 
made great advances in the usurpation of its powers. The 
king of New-York levied imposts on Jersey and Connecticut ; 
and the nobles of Virginia bore with impatience their tributary 
dependence on Baltimore and Philadelphia. Our discontents 
were fermenting into civil war ; and that would have multipli- 
ed and exasperated our discontents. 

Impending publick evils, so obvious and so near, happily rous- 
ed all the patriotism of the country ; but they roused its ambi- 
tion too. The great state chieftains found the sovereign power 
unoccupied, and, like the lieutenants of Alexander, each em- 



AMERICAN LIBERTY. 407 

ployed intrigue, and would soon have employed force, to erect 
his province into a separate monarchy or aristocracy. Po- 
pular republican names would, indeed, have been used, but 
in the struggles of ambition they would have been used only 
to cloak usurpation and tyranny. How late, and with what 
sourness and reluctance did New-York and Virginia renounce 
the hopes of aggrandizement, which their antifederal leaders 
had so passionately cherished ! The opposition to the adop- 
tion of the federal constitution was not a controversy about 
principles ; it was a struggle for power. In the great states, 
the ruling party, with that sagacity which too often accom- 
panies inordinate ambition, instantly discerned, that, if the 
new government should go into operation with all the energy 
that its letter and spirit would authoi'ize, they must cease to 
rule — still worse, they must submit to be ruled, nay, worst 
of all, they must be ruled by their equals, a condition of real 
Avretchedness and supposed disgrace, which our impatient 
tyrants anticipated with instinctive and unspeakable horrour. 

To prevent this dreaded result of the new constitution, 
Avhich, by securing a real legal equality to all the citizens, 
would bring theyn down to an equality, their earliest care was 
to bind the ties of their factious union more closely together; 
and by combining their influence and exerting the utmost 
malignity of their art, to render the new government odious 
and suspected by the people. Thus, conceived in jealousy and 
born in weakness and dissension, they hoped to see it sink, 
like its predecessor, the confederation, into contempt. Hence 
it was, that in every great state a faction arose with the 
fiercest hostility to the federal constitution, and active in 
devising and pursuing every scheme, however unwarrant- 
able or audacious, that would obstruct the establishment of 
any power in the state superiour to its own. 

It is undeniably true, therefore, that faction was organized 
sooner than the new government. We are not to charge this 
event to the accidental rivalships or disgusts of leading men, 
but to the operation of the invariable principles that preside 



408 THE DANGERS OF 

over human actions and political affairs. Power had slipped 
out of the feeble hands of the old congress ; and the world's 
power, like its wealth, can never lie one moment without a 
possessor. The states had instantly succeeded to the vacant 
sovereignty ; and the leading men in the great states, for the 
small ones were inactive from a sense of their insignificance, 
engrossed their authority. Where the executive authority 
was single, the governour, as, for instance^ in New-York, felt 
his brow encircled with a diadem ; but in those states where 
the governour, is a mere cypher, the men who influenced the 
assembly governed the state, and there an oligarchy estab- 
lished itself. When has it been seen in the world, that the 
possession of sovereign power was regarded with indifference, 
or resigned without effort ? If all that is ambition in the heart 
of man had slept in America, till the era of the new constitu- 
tion, the events of that period would not merely have awak- 
ened it into life, but have quickened it into all the agitations 
of frenzy. 

Then commenced an active struggle for power. Faction 
resolved, that the new government should not exist at all, 
or, if that could not be prevented, that it should exist without 
energy. Accordingly, the presses of that time teemed with 
calumny and invective. Before the 'new government had 
done any thing, there was nothing oppressive or tyrannical 
which it was not accused of meditating ; and when it began 
its operations, there was nothing wise or fit that it was not 
charged with neglecting ; nothing right or beneficial that it 
did, but from an insidious design to delude and betray the 
people. The cry of usurpation and oppression was louder 
then, when all was prosperous and beneficent, than it has 
been since, when the judiciary is violently abolished, the 
judges dragged to the culprit's bar, the constitution changed 
to prevent a change of rulers, and the path plainly marked 
out and already half travelled over for the ambition of those 
rulers to reign in contempt of the people's votes and on the 
ruins of their liberty. 



AMERICAN LIBERTY. 409 

He is certainly a political novice or a hypocrite, who will 
pretend, that the antifecleral opposition to the government 
is to be ascribed to the concern of the people for their 
liberties, rather than to the profligate ambition of their dema- 
gogues, eager for power, and suddenly alarmed by the immi- 
nent danger of losing it; demagogues, who, leading lives 
like Clodius, and with the maxims of Cato in their mouths, 
cherishing principles like Catiline, have acted steadily on a 
plan of usurpation like Cesar. Their labour for twelve 
years was to inflame and deceive ; and their recompense, for 
the last four, has been to degrade and betray. 

Any person who considers the instability of all authority, 
that is not only derived from the multitude, but wanes or 
increases with the ever changing phases of their levity and ca- 
price, will pronounce, that the federal government was from 
the first, and from its very nature and organization, fated to 
sink under the rivalship of its state competitors for dominion. 
Virginia has never been more federal than it was, when, from 
considerations of policy, and, perhaps, in the hope of future 
success from its intrigues, it adopted the new constitution ; 
for it has never desisted from obstructing its measures and 
urging every scheme that would reduce it back again to the 
imbecility of the old confederation. To the dismay of every 
true patriot, these arts have at length fatally succeeded ; and 
our system of government now differs very little from what 
it would have been, if the impost proposed by the old con- 
gress had been granted, and the new federal constitution had 
never been adopted by the states. * In that case, the states 
being left to their natural inequality, the small states would 
have been, as they now are, nothing, and Virginia, potent in 
herself, more potent by her influence and intrigues, and 
uncontrolled by a superiour federal head, would, of course, 
have been every thing. Baltimore, like Antium, and Phila- 
delphia, like Capua, would have bowed their proud necks to 

* This was written in January, 1S05, when the judicial power •was removed, and othf i- 
dilapidations of the federal edifice in progress. 

52 



410 THE DANGERS OF 

a new Roman yoke. If any of her more powerful neigh- 
bours had resisted her dominion, she would have spread her 
factions into their bosoms, and, like the Marsi and the Sam- 
nites, they Avould, at last, though, perhaps, somewhat the 
later for their valour, have graced the pomp of her triumphs, 
and afterwards assisted to maintain the terrour of her arms. 

So far as state opposition was concerned, it does not appear, 
that it has been overcome in any of the great states by the 
mild and successful operation of the federal govei'nment. But 
if states had not been its rivals, yet the matchless industry 
and close combination of the factious individuals who guided 
the antifederal presses would, in the end, though, perhaps, 
not so soon as it has been accomplished by the help of Vir- 
ginia, have disarmed and prostrated the federal government. 
We have the experience of France before our eyes to prove, 
that, with such a city as Paris, it is utterly impossible to sup- 
port a free I'epublican system. A profligate press has more 
authority than morals ; and a faction will possess more energy 
than magistrates or laws. 

On evidence thus lamentably clear, I found my opinion, 
that the federalists can never again become the dominant 
party ; in other words, the publick reason and virtue cannot 
be again, as in our first twelve years, and never will be again 
the governing power, till our government has passed through 
its revolutionary changes. Every faction that may happen 
to rule will pursue but two objects, its vengeance on the 
fallen party, and the security of its own power against any 
new one that may rise to contest it. As to the glory that 
wise rulers partake, Avhen they obtain it for their nation, no 
person of understanding will suppose, that the gaudy, ephe- 
meral insects, that bask and flutter no longer than while the 
sun of popularity shines without a cloud, will either possess 
the means or feel the passion for it. What have the Con- 
dorcets and Rolands of to-day to hope or to enjoy from the 
personal reputation or publick happiness of to-morrow ? 
Their objects are all selfish, all temporary. Mr. Jefferson's 



AMERICAN LIBERTY. 411 

letters to Mazzei or Paine, his connexion with Callender, or 
his 'mean condescensions to France and Spain, will add 
nothing- to the weight of his disgrace with the party that shall 
supplant him. To be their enemy will be disgrace enough, 
and so far a refuge for his fame, as it will stop all curiosity 
and inquiry into particulars. Every party that has fallen in 
France has been overwhelmed with infamy, but without 
proofs or discrimination. If time and truth have furnished 
any materials for the vindication of the ex-rulers, there has, 
nevertheless, been no instance of the return of the publick 
to pity, or of the injured to power. The revolution has no 
retrograde steps. Its course is onward from the patriots 
and statesmen to the hypocrites and cowards, and onward 
still through successive committees of ruffians, till some one 
ruffian happens to be a hero. Then chance no longer has 
a power over events, for this last inevitably beconaes an 
emperour. 

The restoration of the federalists to their merited influence 
in the government supposes two things, the slumber or ex- 
tinction of faction, and the efficacy of publick morals. It sup- 
poses an interval of calm, when reason will dare to speak, and 
prejudice itself will incline to hear. Then, it is still hoped 
by many, JVova /irogenies caio de^nittitur alto, the genuine 
publick voice would call wisdom into power ; and the love of 
country, which is the morality of politicks, would guard and 
maintain its authority. 

Are not these the visions that delight a poet's fancy, but 
will never revisit the statesman's eyes ? When will faction^ 
sleep ? Not till its labours of vengeance and ambition are 
over. Faction, we know, is the twin brother of our liberty, 
and born first ; and, as we are told in the fable of Castor and 
Pollux, the only one of the two that is immortal. As long 
as there is a faction in full force, and possessed of the govern- 
ment too, the publick will and the publick reason must have 
power to compel, as well as to convince, or they will convince 
without reforming. Bad men, who rise by intrigue, may be 
dispossessed by worse men, who rise over their heads by 



412 THE DANGERS OF 

deeper intrigue ; but what has the publick reason to do, but 
to deplore its silence or to polish its chains ? This last we 
find is now the case in France. All the talent of that coun- 
try is employed to illustrate the virtues and exploits of that 
chief, who has made a nation happy by putting an end to the 
agitations of what they called their liberty, and who naturally 
enough insist, that they enjoy more glory than any other 
people, because they are more terrible to all. 

The publick reason, therefore, is so little in a condition to 
re-establish the federal cause, that it will not long maintain 
its own. Do wc not see our giddy multitude celebrate with 
ioy the triumphs of a party over some essential articles of 
our constitution, and recently over one integral and indepen- 
dent branch of our government ? When our Roland falls, our 
Danton will be greeted with as loud a peal and as splendid a 
triumph. If federalism could by a miracle resume the reins 
of power, unless political virtue and pure morals should 
return also, those reins would soon drop or be snatched from 
its hands. 

By political virtue is meant that love of country diffused 
through the society and ardent in each individual, that would 
dispose, or rather impel every one to do or suffer much for 
his country, and permit no one to do any thing against it. 
The Romans sustained the hardships and dangers of military 
service, which fell not, as amongst modern nations, on the 
dregs of society, but, till the time of Marius, exclusively on 
the flower of the middle and noble classes. They sustained 
them, nevertheless, both with constancy and alacrity, because 
the excellence of life, every Roman thought, was glory, and 
the excellence of each man's glory lay in its redounding to 
the splendour and extent of the empire of Rome. 

Is there any resemblance in all this to the habits and pas- 
sions that predominate in America ? Are not our people 
wholly engrossed by the pursuit of wealth and pleasure ? 
lliough grouped together into a society, the propensities of 
the individual still prevail ; and if the nation discovers the 



AMERICAN LIBERTY. 413 

rudiments of any character, they are yet to be developed. 
In forming it, have we not ground to fear, that the sour, dis- 
social, malignant spirit of our politicks will continue to find 
more to dread and hate in party, than to love and reverence 
in our country ? What foundation can there be for that polit- 
ical virtue to I'est upon, while the virtue of the society is 
proscribed, and its vice lays an exclusive claim to eniolu- 
ment and honour ? And as long as faction governs, it must 
look to all that is vice in the state for its force, and to all that 
is virtue for its plunder. It is not merely the choice of fac- 
tion, though, no doubt, base agents are to be preferred for 
base purposes, but it is its necessity also, to keep men of true 
worth depressed by keeping the turbulent and worthless 
contented. 

How, then, can love of country take I'oot and grow in a 
soil, from which every valuable plant has thus been plucked 
up and thi'own away as a weed ? How can we forbear to 
identify the government with the country ? and how is it 
possible, that we should at the same time lavish all the ar- 
dour of our affection, and yet withhold every emotion either 
of confidence or esteem ? It is said, that in republicks ma- 
jorities invariably oppress minorities. Can there be any real 
patriotism in a state, which is thus filled with those who ex- 
ercise and those who suffer tyranny ? But how much less 
reason has any man to love that country, in which the voice 
of the majority is counterfeited, or the vicious, ignorant, and 
needy are the instruments, and the wise and worthy are the 
victims of oppression ? 

When we talk of patriotism as the theme of declamation, 
it is not very material, that we should know with any preci- 
sion what we mean. It is a subject on which hypocrisy will 
seem to ignorance to be eloquent, because all of it will be 
received and well received as flattery. If, however, we 
search for a principle or sentiment, general and powerful 
enough to produce national effects, capable of making a peo- 
ple act with constancy, or suffer with fortitude, is there any 



414 THE DANGERS OF 

thing in our situation that could have produced, or that can 
cherish it ? The straggling settlements of the Southern part 
of the union, which now is the governing part, have been 
formed by emigrants from almost every nation of Europe. 
Safe in their solitudes alike from the annoyance of enemies 
and of government, it is infinitely more probable, that they 
will sink into barbarism than rise to the dignity of national 
sentiment and character. Patriotism, to be a powerful or 
steady principle of action, must be deeply imbued by edu- 
cation and strongly impressed both by the policy of the gov- 
ernment and the course of events. To love our country with 
ardour, we must often have some fears for its safety ; our 
affection will be exalted in its distress ; and our self-esteem 
will glow on the contemplation of its glory. It is only by 
such diversified and incessant exercise, that the sentiment 
can become strong in the uidividual, or be diffused over the 
nation. 

But how can that nation have any such affinities, any sense 
of patriotism, whose capacious wilderness receives and se- 
parates from each other the successive troops of emigrants 
from all other nations, men who remain ignorant, or learn 
only from the newspapers, that they are countrymen, who 
think it their right to be exempted from all tax, restraint, or 
control, and, of course, that they have nothing to do with or 
for their country, but to make rulers for it, who, after they 
are made, are to have, nothing to do with their makers — ^a 
country too, which they are sure will not be invaded, and 
cannot be enslaved ? Are not the wandering Tartars or Indian 
hunters at least as susceptible of patriotism as these strag- 
glers in our Western forests, and infinitely fonder of glory ? 
It is difficult to conceive of a country, which, from the man- 
ner of its settlement, or the manifest tendencies of its politicks 
is more destitute or more incapable of being inspired with 
political virtue. 

What foundation remains, then, for the hopes of those 
who expect to see the federalists again invested with power ? 



AMERICAN LIBERTY. 415 

Shall we be told, that, if the nation is not animated with 
publick spirit, the individuals are at least fitted to be good 
citizens by the purity of their morals? But what are morals 
without restraints ? and how will merely voluntary restraints 
be maintained ? How long will sovereigns, as the people are 
made to fancy they are, insist more upon checks than prero- 
gatives ? Ask Mr. *** and judge Chase. 

Besides, in political reasoning it is generally overlooked, 
that, if the existence of morals should encourage a people to 
prefer a democralick system, the operation of that system 
is sure to destroy their morals. Power in such a society 
cannot long have any regular control ; and, without control, 
it is itself a vice. Is there in human affairs an occasion of 'i 
profligacy more shameless or more contagious than a gene- 
ral election ? Every spring gives birth and gives wings to 
this epidemick mischief. Then begins a sort of tillage, that 
turns up to the sun and air the most noxious weeds in the 
kindliest soil ; or to speak still more seriously, it is a mortal 
pestilence, that begins with rottenness in the marrow. A 
democratick society will soon find its morals the incum- 
brance of its race, the surly companion of its licentious 
joys. It will encourage its demagogues to impeach and per- 
secute the magistracy, till it is no longer disquieted. In a 
word, there will not be morals without justice ; and though 
justice might possibly support a democracy, yet a democracy 
cannot possibly support justice. 

Rome was never weary of making laws for that end, and 
failed. France has had neai'ly as many laws as soldiers, yet 
never had justice or liberty for one day. Nevertheless, there 
can be no doubt, that the ruling faction has often desired to 
perpetuate its authority by establishing justice. The difii- 
culties, however, lie in the nature of the thing ; for in de- 
mocratick states there are ever more volunteers to destroy 
than to build ; and nothing that is restraint can be erected, 
without being odious, ncr maintained, if it is. Justice her- 



416 THE DANGERS OF 

self must be built on a loose foundation, and every villain's 
hand is, of course, busy to pluck out the underpinning. In- 
stead of being the awful power that is to control the popular 
passions, she descends from the height of her temple, and 
becomes the cruel and vindictive instrument of them. 

Federalism was, therefore, manifestly founded on a mis- 
take, on the supposed existence of sufficient political virtue, 
and on the permanency and authority of the publick morals. 

The party now in power committed no such mistake. 
They acted on the knowledge of what men actually are, not 
Avhat they ought to be. Instead of enlightening the popular 
understanding, their business was to bewilder it. They knew, 
that the vicious, on whom society makes war, would join 
them in their attack upon government. They inflamed tlie 
ignorant ; they flattered the vain ; they offered novelty to the 
restless ; and promised plunder to the base. The envious 
were assured, that the great should fall ; and the ambitious, 
that they should become great. The federal power, propped 
by nothing but opinion, fell, not bacause it deserved its fall, but 
because its principles of action were more exalted and pure 
than the people could support. 

It is now undeniable, that the federal administration was 
blameless. It has stood the scrutiny of time, and passed 
unharmed through the ordeal of its enemies. With all the 
evidence of its conduct in their possession, and with servile 
majorities at their command, it has not been in their power, 
much as they desired it, to fix any reproach on their pre- 
decessors. 

It is the opinion of a few, but a very groundless opinion, 
that the cause of order will be re-established by the splitting 
of the reigning jacobins ; or, if that should not take place 
soon, the union will be divided, and the Northern confede- 
racy compelled to provide for its own liberty. Why, it is 
said, should we expect, that the union of the bad will be per- 
fect, when that of the Washington party, though liberty and 
property were at stake, has been broken ? And why should 



AMERICAN LIBERTY. 417 

k be supposed, that the Northern states, who possess so pro- 
digious a preponderance of white population, of industry, 
commerce, and civilization over the Southern, will remain 
subject to Virginia ? Popular delusion cannot last, and as 
soon as the opposition of the federalists ceases to be feared, 
the conquerors will divide into new factions, and either the 
federalists will be called again into power, or the union will be 
severed into two empires. 

By some attention to the natureof a democracy, both these 
conjectures, at least so far as they support any hopes of the 
publick liberty, will be discredited. 

There is no society without jacobins ; no free society 
without a formidable host of them ; and no democracy, whose 
powers they will not usurp, nor whose liberties, if it be not 
absurd to suppose a democracy can have any, they will not 
destroy. A nation must be exceedingly well educated, in which 
the ignorant and the credulous are few. Athens, with all its 
wonderful taste and literature, poured them into her popular 
assemblies by thousands. It is by no means certain, that a 
nation, composed wholly of scholars and philosophers, would 
contain less presumption, political ignorance, levity, and extra- 
vagance than another state, peopled by tradesmen, farmers, 
and men of business, without a metaphysician or speculatist 
among them. The opulent in Holland were the friends of 
those French who subdued their country, and enslaved them. 
It was the well-dressed, the learned, or, at least, the conceited 
mob of France that did infinitely more than the mere rabble 
of Paris, to overturn the throne of the Bourbons. The mul- 
titude wei'e made giddy with projects of innovation, before 
they were armed with pikes to enforce them. 

As there is nothing really excellent in our governments, that 
is not novel in point of institution, and which faction has not 
represented as old in abuse, the natural vanity, presumption, 
and restlessness of the human heart have, from the first, afford- 
ed the strength of a host to the jacobins of our country. The 
ambitious desperadoes are the natural leaders of this host. 



418 THE DANGERS OF 

Now, though such leaders may have many occasions of jea- 
lousy and discord with one another, especially in the division 
of power and booty, is it not absurd to suppose, that any set of 
them will endeavour to restore both to the right owners ? Do 
we expect a self-denying ordinance from the sons of violence 
and rapine ? Are not those remarkably inconsistent with them- 
selves, who say, our republican system is a government of 
justice and order, that was freely adopted in peace, subsists by 
morals, and whose office it is to ask counsel of the wise and 
to give protection to the good, yet who console themselves in 
the storms of the state with the fond hope, that order will 
spring out of confusion, because innovators Avill grow weary of 
change, and the ambitious will contend about their spoil. Then 
we are to have a new system exactly like the old one, from the 
fortuitovis concourse of atoms, from the crash and jumble of 
all that is precious or sacred in the state. It is said, the popu- 
lar hopes and fears are the gales that impel the political vessel. 
Can any disappointment of such hopes be greater than their 
folly ? 

It is true, the men now in power may not be united together 
by patriotism, or by any principle of faith or integrity. It is 
also true, that they have not, and cannot easily have, a military 
force to awe the people into submission. But on the other 
hand, they have no need of an army ; there is no army to 
oppose them. They arc held together by the ties, and made 
irresistible by the influence of party. With the advantage of 
acting as the government, who can oppose them ? Not the 
federalists, who neither have any force, nor any object to 
employ it for, if they had. Not any subdivision of their own 
faction, because the opposers, if they prevail, will become the 
government, so much the less liable to be opposed for their 
recent victory ; and if the new sect should fail, they will be 
nothing. The conquerors will take care, that an unsuccessful 
resistance shall strengthen their domination. 

Thus it seems, in every event of the division of the ruling 
party, the friends of true liberty have nothing to hope. Tyrants 
may thus be often changed, but the tyranny will remain. 



AMERICAN LIBERTY. 419 

A DEMOCRACY Cannot last. Its nature ordains, that its next 
change shall be into a military despotism, of all known govern- 
ments, perhaps, the most prone to shift its head, and the sloAvest 
to mend its vices. The reason is, that the tyranny of what is 
called the people, and that by the sword, both operate alike to 
debase and corrupt, till there are neither men left with the 
spirit to desire liberty, nor morals with the power to sus- 
tain justice. Like the burning pestilence that destroys the 
human body, nothing can subsist by its dissolution but vermin. 

A MILITARY government may make a nation great, but it 
cannot make them free. There will be frequent and bloody 
struggles to decide who shall hold the sword ; but the con'jue- 
ror will destroy his competitors and prevent any permanent 
division of the empire. Experience proves, that in all such 
governments there is a continual tendency to unity. 

Some kind of balance between the two branches of the Ro- 
man government had been maintained for several ages, till at 
length every popular demagogue, from the tv/o Gracchi to 
Cesar, tried to gain favour, and by favour to gain power by 
flattering the multitude with new pretensions to power in the 
state. The assemblies of the people disposed of every thing ; 
and intrigue and corruption, and often force disposed of the 
votes of those assemblies. It appears, that Catulus, Cato, 
Cicero, and the wisest of the Roman patriots, and perhaps 
wiser never lived, kept on, like the infatuated federalists, hop- 
ing to the last, that the people would see their errour and 
return to the safe old path. They laboured incessantly to re- 
establish the commonwealth ; but the deep corruption of those 
times, not more corrupt than our own, rendered that impos- 
sible. Many of the friends of liberty were slain in the civil 
wars ; some, like Lucullus, had retired to their farms ; and 
most of the others, if not banished by the people, were without 
commands in the army, and, of course, without power in the 
state. Catiline came near being chosen consul, and Piso and 
Gabinius, scarcely less corrupt, ivere chosen. A people so 
degenerate could not maintain liberty; and do we find bad 
morals or dangerous designs any obstruction to the election of 



420 THE DANGERS OF 

any favourite of the reigning party ? It is remarkable, that 
when by a most singular concurrence of circumstances, after 
the death of Cesar, an opportunity was given to the Romans to 
re-establish the republick, there was no effective disposition 
among the people to concur in that design. It seemed as if 
the republican party, consisting of the same class of men as 
the Washington federalists, had expired with the dictator. 
The truth is, when parties rise and resort to violence, the mo- 
ment of calm, if one shoiild happen to succeed, leaves little to 
wisdom and nothing to choice. The orations of Cicero proved 
feeble against the arms of Mark Antony. Is not all this 
apparent in the United States ? Are not the federalists as des- 
titute of hopes as of power ? What is there left for them to 
do ? When a faction has seized the republick, and established 
itself in power, can the true federal republicans any longer 
subsist ? After having seen the republick expire, will it be 
asked, why they are not immortal ? 

But the reuson why such governments are not severed 
by the ambition of contending chiefs, deserves further consid- 
eration. 

As soon as the Romans had subdued the kingdoms of Per- 
seus, Antiochus, and Mithridates, it was necessary to keep on 
foot great armies. As the command of these was bestowed 
by the people, the arts of popularity were studied by all those, 
who pretended to be the friends of the people, and who really 
aspired to be their masters. The greatest favourites became 
the most powerful generals ; and, as at first there was nothing 
which the Roman assemblies were unwilling to give, it ap- 
peared very soon that they had nothing left to withhold. The 
armies disposed of all power in the state, and of the state 
itself; and the generals of course assumed the control of the 
armies. 

It is a very natural subject of surprise, that, when the Ro- 
man empire was rent by civil war, as it was, perhaps, twenty 
times from the age of Marius and Sylla to that of Constantine, 
some competitor for the imperial purple did not maintain him- 
self with his veteran troops in his province ; and found a new 



AMERICAN LIBERTY. 421 

dynasty on the banks of the Euphi'ates or the Danube, the 
Ebro or the Rhme. This surprise is augmented by consider- 
ing the distractions and weakness of an elective government, as 
the Roman was ; the wealth, extent, and power of the rebel- 
lious provinces, equal to several modern first rate kingdoms ; 
their distance from Italy ; and the resource that the despair, 
and shame, and rage of so many conquered nations would sup- 
ply on an inviting occasion to throw off their chains and rise 
once more to independence ; yet the Roman power constantly 
prevailed, and the empire remained one and indivisible. Ser- 
torius was as good a general as Pompey ; and it seems strange 
that he did not become emperour of Spain. Why were not 
new empires founded in Armenia, Syria, Asia Minor, in Gaul 
or Britain ? Why, we ask, unless because the very nature of 
a military democracy, such as the Roman was, did not permit 
it ? Every civil war terminated in the re-union of the provinces, 
that a rebellion had for a time severed from the empire. 
Britain, Spain, and Gaul, now so potent, patiently continued to 
wear their chains, till they dropped off by the total decay of 
the Western empire. 

The first conquests of the Romans were made by the su- 
periority of their discipline. The pi'ovinces were permitted 
to enjoy their municipal laws, but all political and military- 
power was exercised by persons sent from Rome. So that 
the spirit of the subject nations was broken or rendered im- 
potent, and every contest in the provinces was conducted, not 
by the provincials, but by Roman generals and vetei'an troops. 
These were all animated with the feelings of the Roman de- 
mocracy. Now a democracy, a party, and an army bear a close 
resemblance to each other : they are all creatures of emotion 
and impulse. However discordant all the parts of a democracy 
may be, they all seek a centre, and that centre is the single 
arbitrary power of a chief. In this we see how exactly a de- 
mocracy is like an army : they are equally- governments by 
downright force. 

A MULTITUDE can be moved only by their passions ; and 
these, when their gratification is obstructed, instantly impel 



422 THE DANGERS OF 

them to arms. Furor arma ?ninistrat. The club is first used, 
and then, as more effectual, the sword. The discifdined is 
found by the leaders to be more manageable than the mobbish 
force. The rabble at Paris that conquered the bastile were 
soon formed into national guards. But, from the first to the 
last, the nature, and character, and instruments of power re- 
main the same. A rifie democracy will not long want sharp 
tools and able leaders : in fact, though not in name, it is an 
army. It is true, an army is not constituted as a deliberative 
body, and very seldom pretends to deliberate ; but, whenever it 
does, it is a democracy in regiments and brigades, somewhat 
the more orderly as well as more merciful for its discipline. 
It always will deliberate, when it is suffered to feel its own 
power, and is indiscreetly provoked to exert it. At those times, 
is there much reason to believe it will act with less good sense, 
or with a more determined contempt for the national interest 
and opinion, than a giddy multitude managed by worthless 
leaders ? Now though an army is not indulged with a vote, it 
cannot be stripped of its feelings, feelings that may be managed, 
but cannot be resisted. When the legions of Syria or Gaul pre- 
tended to make an emperour, it was as little in the power as 
it was in the disposition of Severus to content himself with 
Italy, and to leave those fine provinces to Niger and Albinus. 
The military town meeting must be satisfied ; and nothing 
could satisfy it but the overthrow of a rival army. If Pompey 
before the battle of Pharsalia had joined his lieutenants in 
Spain, with the design of abandoning Italy, and erecting Spain 
into a separate republick, or monarchy, every Roman citizen 
would have despised, and eveiy Roman soldier would have aban- 
doned him. After that fatal battle, Cato and Scipio never once 
thought of keeping Africa as an independent government ; nor 
did Brutus and Cassius suppose, that Greece and Macedonia, 
which they held with an army, afforded them more than the 
means of contesting with Octavius and Antony the dominion 
of Rome. No hatred is fiercer than such as springs up among 
those who are closely allied and nearly resemble each other. 
Every common soldier would be easily made to feel the personal 



AMERICAN LIBERTY. 423 

insult and the intolerable wrong of another army's rejecting 
his emperour and setting up one of their own — ^not only so, 
but he knew it was lioth a threat and a defiance. The shock 
of the two armies was therefore inevitable. It was a sort of 
duel, and could no more stop short of destruction, than the 
combat of Hector and Achilles. We greatly mistake the 
workings of human nature, when Ave suppose the soldiers in 
such civil wars are mere machines. Hope and fear, love and 
hatred, on the contrary, exalt their feelings to enthusiasm. 
When Otho's troops had received a check from those of Vitel- 
lius, he resolved to kill himself. His soldiers, with tears, be- 
sought him to live, and swore they Avould perish, if necessary, 
in his cause. But he persisted in his purpose, and killed him- 
self ; and many of his soldiers, overpowered by their grief, fol- 
lowed his example. Those, whom false philosophy makes 
blind, will suppose, that national wars will justify, and, there- 
fore, will excite all a soldier's ardour ; but that the strife be- 
tween two ambitious generals will be regarded by all men with 
proper indifference. National disputes are not imderstood, and 
their consquences not foreseen, by the multitude ; but a quarrel 
that concerns the life, and fame, and authority of a military 
favourite takes hold of the heart, and stirs up all the passions. 

A DEMOCRACY is SO like an army, that no one will be at a 
loss in applying these observations. The great spring of action 
with the people in a democracy, is their fondness for one set 
of men, the men who flatter and deceive, and their outrageous 
aversion to another, most probably those who prefer their true 
interest to their favour. 

A MOB is no sooner gathered together, than it instinctively 
feels the want of a leader, a want that is soon supplied. They 
may not obey him as long, but they obey him as implicitly, and 
will as readily fight and burn, or rob and murder, in his cause, 
as the soldiers will for their general. 

As the Roman provinces were held in subjection by Roman 
troops, so every American state is watched with jealousy, and 
ruled with despotick rigour by the partisans of the faction 
that may happen to be in power. The successive struggles. 



424 THE DANGERS OF 

to which our licentiousness may devote the country, will never 
be of state against state, but of rival factions diffused over our 
whole territory. ( )f course, the strongest army, or that which 
is best commanded will prevail, and we shall remain subject 
to one indivisible bad government. 

This conclusion may seem surprising to many ; but the 
event of the Roman republick will vindicate it on the evidence 
of history. After faction, in the time of Marius, utterly oblite- 
rated every republican principle that was worth anything, Rome 
remained a military despotism for almost six hundred years ; 
and, as the re-establishment of republican liberty in our coun- 
try after it is once lost, is a thing not to be expected, what 
can succeed its loss but a government by the sword ? It would 
be certainly easier to prevent than to retrieve its fall. 

The jacobins are indeed ignorant or wicked enough to say, 
a mixed monarchy on the model of the British will succeed the 
failure of our republican system. Mr. Jefferson in his fimious 
letter to Mazzei has shewn the strange condition both of his head 
and heart, by charging this design upon Washington and his 
adherents. It is but candid to admit, that there are many weak- 
minded democrats, who really think a mixed monarchy the next 
stage of our politicks. As well might they promise, that, 
when their factious fire has burned the plain dwelling-house of 
our liberty, her temple will rise in royal magnificence and with 
all the proportions of Grecian architecture from the ashes. 
It is impossible sufficiently to elucidate, yet one could never 
be tired of elucidating the matchless absurdity of this opinion. 
An un77iixed monarchy, indeed, there is almost no doubt 
awaits us ; but it will not be called a monarchy. Cesar lost 
his life by attempting to take the name of king. A president, 
Avhose election cannot be hindered, may be well content to 
wear that title, which inspires no jealousy, yet disclaims no 
prerogative that party can usurp to confer. Old forms may 
be continued, till some inconvenience is felt fi'om them ; and 
then the same faction that has made them forms., can make 
them less, and substitute some new organick decree in their 
stead. 



AMERICAN LIBERTY. 425 

But a mixed monarchy would not only offend fixed opin- 
ions and habits, but provoke a most desperate resistance. The 
people, long after losing the substance of republican liberty, 
maintain a reverence for the name ; and would fight with en- 
thusiasm for the tyrant, who has left them the name, and taken 
from them every thing else. Who, then, are to set it up ? and 
how are they to do it ? Is it by an army ? Where are their sol- 
diers ? Where are their resources and means to arm and main- 
tain them ? Can it be established by free popular consent ? Ab- 
surd. A people once trained to republican principles, will feel 
the degradation of submitting to a king. It is far from cer- 
tain, that their opposition would be soothed, by restricting the 
powers of such a king to the one half of what are now enjoyed 
by Mr. Jefferson. That wovdd make a difference, bvit the many 
would not discern it. The aversion of a republican nation to 
kingship is sincere and warm, even to fanaticism ; yet it has 
never been found to exact of a favourite demagogue, who 
aspired to reign, any other condescension than an ostentatious 
scrupulousness of regard to names, to appearances, and forms. 
Augustus, whose despotism was not greater than his cunninp-, 
professed to be the obsec[uious minister of his slaves in the 
senate ; and Roman pride not only exacted, but enjoyed to the 
last, the pompous hypocrisy of the phrase, the majesty of the 
Roman commo7iwealth. 

To suppose, therefore, a monarchy established by vole of 
the people, by the free consent of a majority, is contraiy to the 
nature of man and the uniform testimony of his experience. 
To suppose it introduced by the disciples of Washington, who 
are with real or affected scorn described by their adversaries 
as a fallen party, a despicable handful of malecontents, is no 
less absurd than inconsistent. The federalists cannot com- 
mand the consent of a majority, and they have no consular or 
imperial army to extort it. Every thing of that sort is on the 
side of their foes, and, of course, an unsurmountable obstacle 
to their pretended enterprise. 

It will weigh nothing in the argument with some persons, 
but with men of sense it will be conclusive, that the mass of 
54 



426 THE DANGERS OF 

the federalists are the owners of the commercial and raonied 
wealth of the nation. Is it conceivable, that such men will 
plot a revolution in favour of monarchy, a revolution that 
would make them beggars as well as traitors, if it should mis- 
carry ; and, if it should succeed ever so well, would require a 
century to take root and acquire stability enough to ensure 
justice and protect property? In these convulsions of the state 
property is shaken, and in almost every radical change of gov- 
ernment actually shifts hands. Such a project would seem 
audacious to the conception of needy adventurers who risk no- 
thing but their lives ; but to reproach the federalists of jNew- 
England, the most independent farmers, opulent merchants, 
and thriving mechanicks, as well as pious clergy, with such a 
conspiracy, requires a degree of impudence that nothing can 
transcend. As well might they suspect the merchants of a 
plot to choak up the entrance of our harbours by sinking hulks, 
or that the directors of the several banks had confederated to 
blow up the' money vaults with gunpowder. The Catos and 
the Ciceros are accused of conspiring to subvert the common- 
Avealth — and who are the accusers ? The Clodii.) the Antoniesy 
and the Catilines. 

Let us imagine, however, that by some miracle a mixed 
monarchy is established, or rather put into operation ; and 
surely no man will suppose an unmixed monarchy can possibly 
be desired or contemplated by the federalists. The charge 
against them is, that they like the British monarchy too well. 
For the sake of argument, then, be it the British monarchy. 
To-morrow's sun shall rise and gild it. with hope and joy, and 
the dew of to-morrow's evening shall moisten its ashes. Like 
the golden calf, it would be ground to powder before noon. 
Certainly, the men, wlio prate about an American monarchy 
copied from the British, are destitute of all sincerity or judg- 
ment. What could make such a monarchy ? Not parchment— 
We are beginning to be cured of the insane belief, that an en- 
grossing clerk can make a constitution. Mere words, though 
on parchment, though sworn to, are wind, and worse than 
wind, because they are perjury. What could give effect to 



AMERICAN LIBERTY. 427 

such a monai'chy ? It might have a right to command, but 
what could give it power ? Not an army, for that would make 
it a military tyranny, of all governments the most odious, be- 
cause the most durable. The British monarchy does not 
govern by an army, nor would their army suffer itself to be 
employed to destroy the national liberties. It is officered by 
the younger sons of noble and wealthy parents, and by many 
distinguished commanders who are in avowed opposition to the 
ministry. In fact, democratick opinions take root and flourish 
scarcely less in armies than in great cities, and infinitely more 
than they are found to do, or than it is possible they should in 
the cabals of any ruling party in the world. 

Great Britain, by being an island, is secured from foreign 
conquest; and by having a powerful enemy within sight of her 
shore is kept in sufficient dread of it to be inspired with patrio- 
tism. That virtue, with all the fervour and elevation that a 
society which mixes so much of the commercial with the mar- 
tial spirit can display, has other kindred virtues in its train ; 
and these have had an influence in forming the habits and prin- 
ciples of action, not only of the English military and nobles, 
but of the mass of the nation. There is much, therefore, there 
is every thing in that island to blend self-love with love of coun- 
try. It is impossible, that an Englishman should have fears 
for the government without trembling for his o^vn safety. How 
different are these sentiments from the immovable apathy of 
those citizens, who think a constitution no better than any other 
piece of paper, nor so good as a blank on which a more per- 
fect one could be written I 

Is our monarchy to be supported by the national habits of 
subordination and implicit obedience ? Surely, when they hold 
out this expectation, the jacobins do not inean to answer for 
themselves. Or do we really think it would still be a monarchy, 
though we should set up, and put down at pleasure, a town meet- 
ing king ? 

By removing or changing the relation of any one of the 
pillars that support the British government, its identity and 
excellence would be lost, a revolution would ensue. When the 



428 THE DANGERS OF 

house of commons voted the house of peers useless, a tyranny 
of the committees of that body sprang up. The EngUsh na- 
tion have had the good sense, or, more correctly, the good 
fortune, to alter nothing, till time and circumstances enforced 
the alteration, and then to abstain from speculative innovations. 
The evil spirit of metaphysicks has not been conjured up to 
demolish, in order to lay out a new foundation by the line, and 
to build upon plan. The present happiness of that nation 
rests upon old foundations, so much the more solid, because 
the meddlesome ignorance of professed builders has not been 
allowed to new lay them. We may be permitted to call it a 
matter of fact government. No correct politician will presume 
to engage, that the same form of government would succeed 
equally well, or even succeed at all, any where else, or even 
in England under any other circumstances. Who will dare to 
say, that their monarchy would stand, if this generation had 
raised it ? Who, indeed, will believe, if it did stand, that the 
weakness produced by the novelty of its institution would not 
justify and, even from a regard to self preservation, compel an 
almost total departure from its essential principles ? 

Now is there one of those essential principles, that it is even 
possible for the American people to adopt for their monarchy ? 
Are old habits to be changed by a vote, and new ones to be 
established without experience ? Can we have a monarchy 
without a peerage ? or shall our governours supply that defect 
by giving commissions to a sufficient number of nobles of the 
quorum ? Where is the American hierarchy ? Where, above 
all, is the system of English law and jvistice, which would sup- 
port liberty in Turkey, if Turkey could achieve the impossi- 
bility of supporting such justice ? 

It is not I'ecollected, that any monarchy in the world was 
ever introduced by consent ; nor will any one believe, on reflec- 
tion, that it could be maintained by any nation, if nothing but 
conseHt upheld it. It is a rare thing, for a people to choose 
their government ; it is beyond all credibility, that they will 
enjoy the still rarer opportunity of changing it by choice. 



AMERICAN LIBERTY. 429 

The notion, therefore, of an American mixed monarchy is 
supremely ridiculous. It is highly probable, our country will 
be eventually subject to a monarchy, but it is demonstrable 
that it cannot be such as the British ; and, whatever it may be, 
that the votes of the citizens will not be taken to introduce it. 

It cannot be expected, that the tendency towards a change 
of government, however obvious, will be discerned by the mul- 
titude of our citizens. While demagogues enjoy their favour, 
their passions will have no rest, and their judgment and under- 
standing no exercise. Otherwise, it might be of use to remind 
them, that more essential breaches have been made in our 
constitution within four years than in the British in the last 
hundred and forty. In that enslaved country, every executive 
attempt at usurpation has been spiritedly and perseveringly 
resisted, and substantial improvements have been made in the 
constitutional provisions for liberty. Witness the habeas cor- 
pus, the independence of the judges, and the perfection, if any 
thing human is perfect, of their administration of justice, the 
result of the famous Middlesex election, and that on the right 
of issuing general search-warrants. Let every citizen who is 
able to think, and who can bear the pain of thinking, make the 
contrast at his leisure. 

They are certainly blind who do not see, that we are de- 
scending from a supposed orderly and stable republican govern- 
ment into a licentious democracy, with a progress that baffles 
all means to resist, and scarcely leaves leisure to deplore its 
celferity. The institutions and the hopes that Washington 
raised are nearly prostrate ; and his name and memory would 
perish, if the rage of his enemies had any power over history. 
But they have not — history will give scope to her vengeance, 
and posterity will not be defrauded. 

But, if our experience had not clearly given warning of our 
approaching catastrophe, the very nature of democracy Avould 
inevitably produce it. 

A GOVERNMENT by the passions of the multitude, or, no 
less correctly, according to the vices and ambition of their 
leaders, is a democracy. We have heard so long of the inde- 



430 THE DANGERS 01- 

feasible sovereignty of the people, and have admitted so many 
specious theories of the rights of man, which are contradictecl 
by his nature and experience, that few will dread at all, and 
fewer still .will dread as they ought, the evils of an American 
democracy. They will not believe them near, or they will think 
them tolerable or temporary. Fatal delusion ! 

When it is said, there may be a tyranny of the many as well 
as of thcy^w, every democrat will yield at least a cold and spe- 
culative assent ; but he will at all times act, as if it were a thing 
incomprehensible, that there should be any evil to be appre- 
hended in the uncontrolled power of the people. He will say, 
arbitrary power may make a tyrant, but how can it make its 
possessor a slave ? 

In the first place, let it be remarked, the power of individuals 
is a very different thing from their liberty. When I vote for 
the man I prefer, he may happen not to be chosen ; or he may 
disappoint my expectations, if he is ; or he may be out-voted by 
others in the publick body to which he is elected. I may, then, 
hold and exercise all the power that a citizen can have or enjoy, 
and yet such laws may be made and such abuses allowed as shall 
deprive me of all liberty. I may be tried by a jury, and that 
jury may be culled and picked out from my political enemies 
by a federal marshal. Of course, my life and liberty may 
depend on. the good pleasure of the man who appoints that 
marshal. I may be assessed ai^bitrarily for my faculty, or 
upon conjectural estimation of my property, so that all I have 
shall be at the control of the government, whenever its displea- 
sure shall exact the sacrifice. I may be told, that I am a fede- 
ralist, and, as such, bound to submit, in all cases whatsoever, 
to the will of the majority, as the ruling faction ever pretend 
to be. My submission may be tested by my resisting or obey- 
ing commands that will involve me in disgrace, or drive me 
to despair. I may become a fugitive, because the ruling 
party have made me afraid to stay at home ; or, perhaps, while 
I remain at home, they may, nevertheless, think fit to inscribe 
my name on the list of emigrants and proscribed persons. 



AMERICAN LIBERTY. 431 

All this was done in France, and many of the admirers of 
French examples are impatient to imitate them. AH this 
time the people may be told, they are the freest in the world ; 
but what ought my opinion to be ? What would the threatened 
clergy, the aristocracy of wealthy merchants, as they have 
been called already, and thirty thousand more in Massachu- 
setts, who vote for governour Strong, and whose case might 
be no better than mine, what would they think of their condi- 
tion ? Would they call it liberty ? Surely, here is oppression 
sufficient in extent and degree to make the government that 
inflicts it both odious and terrible ; yet this and a thousand 
times more than this was practised in France, and will be 
repeated, as often as it shall please God in his wrath to de- 
liver a people to the dominion of their licentious passions. 

The people, as a body, cannot deliberate. Nevertheless, 
they will feel an irresistible impulse to act, and their resolu- 
tions will be dictated to them by their demagogues. The con- 
sciousness, or the opinion, that they possess the supreme pow- 
er, will inspire inordinate passions ; and the violent men, who 
are the most forwai'd to gratify those passions, will be their 
favourites. What is called the government of the people is 
in fact too often the arbitrary power of such men. Here, 
then, we have the faithful portrait of democracy. What avails 
the boasted poiver of individual citizens ? or of what value is 
the will of tlie majority, if that will is dictated by a committee 
of demagogues, and law and right are in fact at the mercy of 
a victorious faction ? To make a nation free, the crafty must 
be kept in awe, and the violent in restraint. The weak and 
the simple find their liberty arise not from their own indi- 
vidual sovereignty, but from the power of law and justice 
over all. It is only by the due restraint of others, that I am 
free. 

Popular sovereignty is scarcely less beneficent than awful, 
when it resides in their courts of justice ; there its office, like 
a sort of human providence, is to waim, enlighten, and protect ; 
when the people are inflamed to seize and exercise it in their 
assemblies, it is competent only to kill and destroy. Tern- 



432 THE DANGERS OF 

perate liberty is like the dew, as it falls unseen from its own 
heaven ; constant without excess, it finds veg;etation thirsting 
for its refreshment, and imparts to it the vigour to take more. 
All nature, moistened with blessings, sparkles in tlie morning 
ray. But democracy is a Avater spout, that bursts from the 
clovids, and lays the ravaged earth bare to its rocky foundations. 
The labours of man lie whelmed with his hopes beneath 
masses of ruin, that bury not only the dead, but their monu- 
ments. 

It is the almost universal mistake of our countrymen, that 
democracy would be mild and safe in America. They charge 
the horrid excesses of France not so much to human nature, 
which will never act better, when the restraints of government, 
morals, and religion are throvi'n off, but to the characteristick 
cruelty and wickedness of Frenchmen. 

The truth is, and let it humble our pride, the most ferocious 
of all animals, when his passions are roused to fury and are 
uncontrolled, is man ; a.nd of all governments, the worst is that 
which never fails to excite, but was never found to restrain 
those passions, that is, democracy. It is an illuminated hell, 
that in the midst of remorse, horrour, and torture, rings with 
festivity ; for experience shews, that one joy remains to this 
most malignant description of the damned, the power to make 
others wretched. When a man looks round and sees his 
neighbours mild and inerciful, he cannot feel afraid of the 
abuse of their power over him : and surely if they oppress me, 
he will say, they will spare their own liberty, for that is dear 
to all mankind. It is so. The human heart is so constituted, 
that a man loves liberty as naturally as himself Yet liberty is 
a rare thing in the world, though the love of it is so universal. 

Before the French revolution, it was the prevailing opinion 
of our countrymen, that other nations were not free, because 
their despotick governments were too strong for the people. 
Of course, we were admonished to detest all existing govern- 
ments, as so many lions in liberty's path ; and to expect 
by their downfal the happy opportunity that every emanci- 
pated people M'ould embrace to secure their own equal rights 



AMERICAN LIBERTY. 433 

for ever. France is supposed to have had this opportunity, 
and to have lost it. Ought we not, then, to be convinced, 
that something more is necessary to preserve liberty than to 
love it ? Ought we not to see, that, when the people have 
destroyed all power but their own, they are the nearest possible 
to a despotism, the more uncontrolled for being new, and ten- 
fold the more cruel for its hypocrisy ? 

The steps by which a people must proceed to change a 
go\-«mment, are not those to enlighten their judgment or to 
sooth their passions. They cannot stir without following the 
men before them, who breathe fury into their hearts and banish 
nature from them. On whatever grounds and under what- 
ever leaders the contest may be commenced, the revolutionary 
work is the same, and the characters of the agents will be 
assimilated to it. A revolution is a mine that must explode 
with destructive violence. The men who were once peace- 
able like to carry firebrands and daggers too long. Thus armed, 
•will they submit to salutary restraint? How will you bring 
them to it ? Will you undertake to reason down fury ? Will 
you satisfy revenge without blood ? Will you preach banditti 
into habits of self-denial ? If you can, and in times of violence 
and anarchy, why do you ask any other guard than sober reason 
for your life and property in times of peace and order, when 
men are most disposed to listen to it ? Yet even at such times, 
you impose restraints ; you call out for your defence the whole 
array of law with its mstruments of punishment and terrour; 
you maintain ministers to strengthen force with opinion, and 
to make religion the auxiliary of morals. With all this, how- 
ever, crimes are still perpetrated ; society is not any too safe 
or quiet. Break down all these fences ; make what is called 
law an assassin; take what it. ought to protect, and divide it; 
extinguish by acts of rapine and vengeance the spark of mercy 
in the heart ; or, if it should be found to glow there, quench it 
in that heart's blood ; make your people scoff at their morals, 
and unlearn an education to virtue ; displace the christian sab- 
bath by a profane one, for a respite once in ten days from the 
toils of murdei', because men, who first shed blood for revenge, 
55 



434 f HE DANGERS OF 

and proceed to spill it for plunder, and in the progress of their 
ferocity, for sport, want a festival — what sort of society would 
you have ? Would not rage grow with its indulgencfe ? The 
coward fury of a mob rises in proportion as there is less re- 
sistance ; and their inextinguishable thirst for slaughter grows 
more ardent as more blood is shed to slake it. In such a state 
is liberty to be gained or guarded from violation ? It could not 
be kept an hour from the daggers of those who, having seized 
despotick power, would claim it as their lawful prize — I have 
written the history of France. Can Ave look back upon it with- 
out teri'our, or forward without despair ? 

The nature of arbitrary power is always odious ; but it can- 
not be long the arbitrary power of the multitude. There is, 
probably, no form of rule among mankind, in which the pro- 
gress of the government depends so little on the particular 
character of those who administer it. Democi'acy is the ci*ea- 
ture of impulse and violence ; and the intermediate stages 
towards the tyranny of one are so quickly passed, that the vile- 
ness and cruelty of men are displayed with surprismg unifor- 
mity. There is not time for great talents to act. There is 
no sufficient I'eason to believe, that we should conduct a re- 
volution with much more mildness than the French. If a 
revolution find the citizens lambs, it will soon make them 
cariiivorovis, if not cannibals. We have many thousands of the 
Taris and St. Domingo assassins in the United States, not as 
fugitives, but as patriots, who merit reward, and disdain to 
take any but power. In the progress of our confusion, these 
men will effectually assert their claims and display their skill. 
There is no governing power in the state but party. The 
moderate and thinking part of the citizens are without power 
or influence ; and it must be so, because all power and influ- 
ence are engrossed by a factious combination of men, who 
can overwhelm uncombined individuals with numbers, and the 
wise and virtuous with clamour and fury. 

It is indeed a law of politicks as well as of physicks, that a 
body in action must overcome an equal body at rest. The 
attacks that have been made on the constitutional barriers pro- 



AMERICAN LIBERTY. , 435 

claim in a tone that would not be loudei' from a trumpet, that 
party will not tolerate any resistance to its will. All the sup- 
posed independent orders of the commonwealth must be its 
servile instruments, or its victims. We should experience the 
same despotism in Massachusetts, New-Hampshire, and Con^ 
necticut, but the battle is not yet won. It will be won ; and 
they who already display the temper of their Southern and 
French allies, Avill not linger or reluct in imitating the worst 
extremes of their example. 

What, then, is to be our condition ? 

Faction will inevitably triumph. Where the government 
is both stable and free, there may be parties. There will be 
differences of opinion, and the pride of opinion will be suffi- 
cient to generate contests, and to inflame them with bitterness 
and rancour. There will be rivalships among those whom 
genius, fame, or station have made great, and these will deepr 
ly agitate the state without often hazarding its safety. Such 
parties will excite alarm, but they may be safely left, like 
the elements, to exhaust their fury upon each other. 

The object of their strife is to get power under the govern- 
ment ; for, where that is constituted as it should be, the power 
over the government will not seem attainable, and, of course, 
will not be attempted. 

But in democratick states there will he. factions. The sove- 
reign power being nominally in the hands of all, will be effec- 
tively within the grasp of a few ; and, therefore, by the very 
laws of our nature, a few will combine, intrigue, lie, and fight 
to engross it to themselves. All history bears testimony, that 
this attempt has never yet been disappointed. 

Who will be the associates ? Certainly not the virtuous, who 
do not wish to control the society, but quietly to enjoy its pro- 
tection. The enterprising merchant, the thriving tradesman, 
the careful farmer will be engrossed by the toils of their busi- 
ness, and will have little time or inclination for the unprofit- 
able and disquieting pursuits of politicks. It is not the indus- 
trious, sober husbaiidman, who will plough that barren field ; 
it is the lazy and dissolute bankrupt, who has no other to 



436 THE DANGERS OF 

plough. The idle, the ambitious, aiid the needy will band 
together to break the hold that law has upon them, and then 
to get hold of law. Faction is a Hercules, whose first labour 
is to strangle this lion, and then to make armour of his skin. In 
every democratick state the ruling faction will have law to keep 
down its enemies ; but it will arrogate to itself an undisputed 
power over law. If our ruling faction has found any impedi- 
ments, we ask, which of them is now rentiaining ? And is it not 
absurd to suppose, that the conquerors will be contented with 
half the fruits of victory ? 

We are to be subject, then, to a des/iotick faction, irritated 
by the resistance that has delayed, and the scorn that pursues 
their triumph, elate with the insolence of an arbitrary and un- 
controllable domination, and who will exercise their sway, not 
according to the rules of integrity or national policy, but in 
conformity with their own exclusive interests and passions. 

This is a state of things, which admits of progress, but not 
of reformation : it is the beginning of a revolution, which must 
advance. Our affairs, as first observed, no longer depend on 
counsel. The opinion of a majority is no longer invited or 
permitted to conti'ol our destinies, or even to retard their con- 
summation. The men in power may, and, no doubt, will give 
place to some other faction, who will succeed, because they 
are abler men, or, possibly, in candour we say it, because they 
are worse. Intrigue will for some time answer instead of 
force, or the mob will supply it. But by degrees force only 
will be relied on by those who are zn, and employed by those 
who are out. The vis major will prevail, and some hold 
chieftain will conquer liberty, and triumph and reign in her 
name. 

Yet, it is confessed we have hopes, that this event is not 
very near. We have no cities as large as London or Paris ; 
and, of course, the ambitious demagogues may find the ranks 
of their standing army too thin to rule by them alone. It 
is also worth remark, that our mobs are not, like those of 
Europe, excitable by the cry of no bread. The dread of fam- 
ine is eveiy where else a power of political electricity, that 



AMERICAN LIBERTY. 437 

glides through all the haunts of filth, and vice, and want in a 
city with incredible speed, and in times of insurrection rives 
and scorches with a sudden force, like heaven's own thunder. 
Accordingly, we find the sober men of Europe more afraid of 
the despotisp of the rabble than of the government. 

But, as in the United States we see less of this description 
of low vulgar, and as, in the essential circumstance alluded 
to, they are so much less manageable by their demagogues, 
we are to expect, that our affairs will be long guided by court- 
ing the mob, before they are violently changed by employing 
them. While the passions of the multitude can be conciliated 
to confer power and to overcome all impediments to its action, 
our rulers have a plain and easy task to perform. It costs 
them nothing but hypocrisy. As soon, however, as rival fa- 
vourites of the people may happen to contend by the practice 
of the same arts, we are to look for the sanguinary strife of 
ambition. Brissot will fall by the hand of Danton, and he will 
be supplanted by Robespiere. The revolution will proceed 
in exactly the same way, but not with so rapid a pace, as that 
of France. 



C 438 3 



HINTS AND CONJECTURES 

CONCERNING 

THE INSTITUTIONS OF LYCtJRGUS. 

WRITTEN IN 1805. 

A H E institutions of Lycurgus have engrossed, and, perhaps, 
have deserved the praises of all antiquity. Even the Athenians, 
the rivals and enemies of Sparta, do not withhold or stint their 
admiration of the sublime genius and profound wisdom of this 
legislator. Such a general concurrence of opinions, and for 
so many ages, in favour of the laws of Lycurgus, can scarcely 
be imagined to proceed from errour, accident, or caprice. 

When to this we add, that for seven hundred years the 
Lacedaemonian state continued to respect, if not rigidly to ob- 
serve, these laws, we are not permitted at this late day to 
arraign their wisdom, especially by attempting to ridicule their 
singularity. We are the less authorized to pronounce their 
condemnation, as the ancients have taken more pains to make 
them appear admirable than intelligible. A complete and sa- 
tisfactory view of the Spartan policy, if any such were exhibited 
of old, has not reached our times. Besides, so unlike are our 
manners and institutions to those of Greece, and particularly 
of Sparta, that the representations of Xenophon, Aristotle, 
Polybius, and Plutarch, though amply sufficient for the infor- 
mation of their countiymen, cannot fail to appear defective and 
obscure to us. 

The chief articles of the system of Lycurgus seem so much 
more extraordinary than any thing else that has happened in 
the world, except their political consequences, that we should 
be induced to deny the facts, if the historical evidence of them 
were not coinplete. As we are not permitted to do this, we sub- 
mit to the authot ity of history, with a sort of vague and unin- 
structed astonishment at the strangeness of its testimony. 



THE INSTITUTIONS OF LYCURGUS, 439 

Sparta or Lacedsemon, ancient writers tell us, was rent 
with factions, one of the two kings being at the head of each, 
without laws, and so deeply corrupted, that neither morals nor 
manners could supply their place. In this exigency Lycurgus 
appeared, and by his genius took the ascendant over the kings 
and demagogues, and, indeed, over all the men of his age and 
nation, as the pasture oak towers above the shrubs, or like a 
giant among dwarfs. The oracle of Delphi gave him, more- 
over, all the authority that superstition can maintain over igno- 
rance. Thus far all is easy of comprehension. 

But, when we are required to believe, that a whole people 
readily submitted to give up their property to be divided anew ; 
that they renounced luxury, ostentation, and pleasui'e, and even 
the use of money, except iron ; that they were obliged, under 
severe penalties, from which their kings were not exempted, 
to dine in publick and on wretched fare ; that their children 
were taken from them and exposed to death, if adjudged weakly 
and infirm, or, if permitted to live, placed under the tutelage 
of publick officers ; and that such was the intolerable rigour of 
their regulations, that actual service in camp was a welcome 
relaxation — when we read all this, surely, if there is nothing to 
justify our doubts, there is nothing that can suppress our 
wonder. We yield our faith at once, that the Lacedaemonians 
immediately became a nation of heroes, who had extinguished 
nature, and silenced appetite and passion, save only the passion 
to live and die for their countiy. 

By this expedient we make the Spartan story somewhat 
more credible. As we can know nothing of what demigods 
would do, we may imagine just what we please. But men now- 
adays, we are sure, would not be brought to adopt such laws, 
nor, if they did, long to observe them. 

Nevertheless, we know, that the success of the system of 
Lycurgus did not arise from the superiority of his race of 
Spartans. On the contrary, so far were they from being su- 
periour to other men, that he found them, we are told, worse. 
This we are forced to believe ; for he found them factious— 
and faction, we know, is as sure to degrade and corrupt the 



440 THE INSTITUTIONS 

citizens as to bewilder and inflame them. Indeed he left 
them as he found them, and as they are represented by all an- 
tiquity, faithless, ferocious, and cruel, yet loving their country 
with an ardour of passion and with a disregard of justice, that 
made it hateful and terrible to the rest of mankind. 

We are driven back, then, to consider how vien^ and very 
bad men, could be prevailed on to establish, and, what is still 
more surprising, for many hundred years to maintain such 
self-denying and odious institutions. It would be absurd to 
suppose, that the enthusiasm kindled by Lycurgus spread so far 
and lasted so long. This sort of fire, which seldom catches any 
thing but light combustibles, only flashes and expires. We 
find, on the contrary, that the institutions of Lycurgus had a 
sort of awful authority to fix the popular caprice and ovei'~ 
come their disgust, to charm their sages and animate their 
heroes, to form the manners and control the policy of the na- 
tion for many ages. The mere popularity of his system would 
not have lasted for a year ; and though superstition might do 
much, nature in the end would do more, and resume her 
violated rights. So many painful exercises, such endless and 
unsuiferable privations and constraints would soon exhaust 
the patience of the most passive wretches that ever existed. 
It was said, with almost as much truth as wit, by the Athenian 
Alcibiades : " no wonder the Spartans cheerfully encounter 
death — it is a welcome relief to them from such a life as they 
are obliged to lead." 

It is, therefore, after all, extremely difficult to conceive, 
that the discipline of this famous legislator was intended for 
the body of the inhabitants of the city of Laccdsemon, much 
less for the whole country of Laconia, or that it was ever so 
applied. Human nature has not changed for the worse by 
the lapse of twenty six hundred years ; and we may venture to 
say, that there is no people now on the face of the earth, who 
could be persuaded or forced to submit to such a discipline. 

The Jews, it is true, adopted a very singular body of laws ; 
but it is equally true, that they were infinitely less obnoxious 
to the sentiments and feelings of nature than those of Lycur- 



OF LYCURGUS. 441 

gus. It is also true, that, under the immediate government 
of God himself, manifested by signs and wonders, by awful 
warnings and signal punishments, the Hebrews repeatedly 
yielded to their natural repugnance, and departed from the 
law of Moses. Yet Lycurgus, without any divine, and even 
without the regal authority in SpcU'ta, is commonly supposed, 
not only to have wielded the political power of the state, a 
thing not in the least difficult to suppose, but to have changed 
or extinguished the inclinations of every Lacedaemonian heart, 
and to have substituted in their stead a passion for self-denial, 
restraint, and suffering. 

Yet all the writers of antiquity represent the discipline of 
Lycurgus, no less than his political constitution, as being in 
full force over all the citizens ; that food, dress, sports, con- 
versation, and even the intercourse of the sexes, were restrict- 
ed by law ; in short, that a system of regulations unspeakably 
more minute, vexatious, disgusting, and tyrannical than we 
find prescribed for the fraternity of La Trappe, or the monks 
of the order of St. Francis, was inflexibly imposed on a nation, 
and quietly obeyed for many ages. All this may, possibly, be 
true ; and we must yield our belief, if we cannot help it ; but 
it would be almost as hard to command our faith in this extent 
of the story, as our obedience to the laws of Sparta. 

In this exigency, and with this hard alternative before us, it 
is hoped, that those who are profoundly versed in classick 
learning will not deem it treason against the ancients, if we 
propose some hints and conjectures tending to throw 
light upon the subject, and which, if well grounded, may some- 
what better reconcile the long-unquestioned miracles of Spar- 
tan legislation with common sense and the unchangeable uni- 
formity of the human character. 

Now, though it is inconceivable, that a whole nation should 
submit to the numberless, endless, intolerable vexations and 
rigours of the Spartan disciplme, it is by no means incredible, 
that ttvo or three thousand of them should. The wandering 
Tartars who live encamped in tents might, possibly, be sub- 
jected to a pretty strict military regulation ; although it is 
56 



442 THE INSTITUTIONS 

certain, that they are not ; but a people dispersed over a whole 
territory, living in houses, and cherishing, as from their situa- 
tion they must, the delights that a fixed home affords, cannot 
be made monks, and be cut off from society, while they are 
suffered to remain warm in its bosom. 

Why, then, are we not permitted to suppose, that the sys- 
tem of Lycurgus, so far as it regulated the meals, education, 
dress, and indifferent actions of the citizens, was made for a 
jmrticular class, and enforced only upon them, and not upon 
the mass of the free inhabitants ; that this class was formed 
exclusively of the S/iarta?i, or noble families ; that the object 
of this system was not, as is generally believed, by changing 
or expelling human nature, to raise a whole nation above it, 
but to raise a governing aristocracy above that nation. To 
illustrate the conjecture, may we not imagine these Spartans 
to have been to the rest of the free citizens of the state in point 
of rank, privilege, power, and numbers, what the knights of 
St. John lately Avere to the people of Malta. It is probable, 
there was a system of fducation extremely rigid for the nobles ; 
and a system of discijdine for the national militia quite distinct 
from the former. Lycurgus distributed the lands to these 
latter in thirty nine thousand lots, or shares, of which less than 
five thousand were assigned to the citizens of Sparta. Now, 
as we read of no education of the youth according to the rules 
of Lycurgus out of that city, we can scarcely refrain from adopt- 
ing both the before mentioned conjectures, viz. that the famous 
plan of Spartan education was only for the nobles or their sons 
who were in the city ; and that the military system, if there was 
one, which we cannot doubt, was distinct from it, and embrac- 
ed the whole feudal tenants or national militia. 

Admitting these suppositions to be well grounded, our 
difficulties disappear at once. 

The rules for a patrician academy, and for a fixed militia, 
though severe, might be enforced by the publick authority. 
The former had power and rank, and the latter had lands to 
stimulate and reward their obedience. The very circumstance 
of setting apart .a class of young men for the noblest of all pro- 




OP LYCURGUS. 443 

fessions, the profession of arms, would naturally inspire the 
young Spartans with the esprit du corps, with the lofty pride 
that would more cheerfully seek than shun the occasions to 
make efforts and sacrifices. In framing the rules for the edu- 
cation and discipline of this noble class, there was ample scope 
for the genius of Lycurgus, and for the display of his deep 
insight into the secrets of the human heart. • Instead of extin- 
guishing nature, and acting, as it is generally thought he did, 
without means, or, at least, without any that we can believe to 
be adequate, he had only to act with the aid of one of the 
strongest passions, and to apply that love of distinction, which 
is one of the most powerful agents in the transactions of man- 
kind. Hence it was, that every Sjiartan thought it better not 
to live at all than live a coward. Hence, Leonidas and his 
little troop, at Thermopylae, did all that hviman nature could 
do — but they did no more ; no Biore than British sailors do 
now ; no more than American sailors are capable of doing, and 
will certainly do, whenever our government shall feel some- 
what of their spirit. The military character, which causes a 
generous devotion of life to honour, is no prodigy : it is the 
familiar business of every day of modern warfare. 

On examining these conjectures of the restricted, instead of 
the universal, application of the discipline of Lycurgus, their 
conformity Avith the known laws of human action, will afford 
ground to admit them, as at least plausible. Let us review the 
history of the Lacedaemonians, and see, if we cannot find mat- 
ter of corroboration. 

Less than one hundred years after the war of Troy, the 
descendants of Hercules, who had been exiled, and in a long 
course of years had greatly increased in numbers, renewed the 
attempt to recover possession of the Peloponnesus. With the 
assistance of a body of Dorians, then the most fei'ocious bar- 
barians in all Greece, they succeeded, expelled most of the 
inhabitants, who took refuge in Attica and on the coast of Asia 
Minor, as Avell as in the islands of the Ionian sea. The He- 
raclidae subverted the thrones of the princes of the Peloponne- 
sian states, seized on the lands for themselves and such of 



444 THE INSTITUTIONS 

their Dorian allies as chose to remain with them, and" reduc- 
ed to slavery such of the old stock of inhabitants as did not 
betcike themselves to flight. Two sons of Aristodemus, of 
the race of Hercules, were placed on the throne of Lace- 
dsemon. 

It is well known, that Hercules for his exploits was deified ; 
and, as long as paganism was the popular religion of Greece, 
which it continued to be fifteen hundred years after this event, 
his name was adored with the most enthusiastick devotion. 
He was most emphatically the hero and the deity of the Greeks. 
Now, as the return of the Heraclidae caused one of the most 
thorough and sweeping revolutions recorded in all history, so 
complete as in a great measure to change the inhabitants, and 
entirely to change the governing classes, and as they came 
back to Peloponnesus with the double claim of being conquer- 
ors and the progeny of a god, it is plain, there was a patrician, 
heaven-descended class existing in the state long before the 
age of Lycurgus, engrossing to themselves a great part of the 
lands, and all the powers and advantages of the government. 

It is impossible to say positively, whether this class consist- 
ed only of the race of Hercules, or whether it included also 
some of the chiefs of the Dorians. As Lycurgus is said to be 
only the tenth in descent from Hercules, the Heraclidae, though 
sufficiently numerous for an order of nobility, could have been 
scarcely numerous enough to keep the remains of a conquered 
people in subjection. ■ It is probable, that a large part of the 
holders of the conquered lands were not of that heroick race. 
This is the more readily to be supposed, as Laconia is repre- 
sented in very early times as a populous country, and contain- 
ing a hvmdred cities. These, no doubt, were inconsiderable 
towns ; yet, after allowing for a very great emigration in con- 
sequence of the conquest, we may believe, that the native 
inhabitants still outnumbered their conquerors. The descen- 
dants of Heixules, being princes, were exclusively" allowed the 
command of the armies, the exercise of all the powers of 
government, and their hereditary rank as an oixler of nobles, 
afterwards called, by way of distinction, S^iartans. The rest 



OF LYCURGUS. 445 

of the citizens, who became distinguished by the appellation 
of Lacedaemonians, were the conquering soldiery, to whom 
lands were assigned in reward for their past services, and as a 
pledge of their future- obedience. Thus, we may believe, a 
governing aristocracy and a national militia, in subordination 
to that body, were called into existence at the time and by the 
circumstances of the conquest. 

It is also to be remembered, that all the governments of 
Greece were originally formed by the confederacy of cities ; 
and in all of them the capital city aspired to the chief, and in 
eveiy case where it was practicable, to the sole authority over 
the rest. In several of the confederacies this ambitious pro- 
ject was resisted with success. But in the earliest antiquity 
and immediately after the return of the Heraclidse, we learn, 
that Sparta was chosen as the residence of the kings and seat 
of government, and that the domination of that city was stretch- 
ed over all the towns of Laconia. Helos alone resisted and 
was subdued ; and its inhabitants were reduced to a sort of 
qualified slavery, by which they were fixed to the soil as pea- 
sants to labour for their Spartan landlords. Now, as Sparta 
governed the state, and the aristocracy governed Sparta, for 
the kings, except in time of war, were cyphers, we cannot 
hesitate to admit, that these nobles were chiefly collected as 
residents in the city of Sparta. The very fact, that there were 
two kings, must have annihilated their authority, if any liad 
been intrusted to them. That circumstance and every other 
that has been transmitted to us by history proves, that the gov- 
ernment was in the hands of an aristocracy. 

Hence we discern the best reasons in the v/orld, why Ly- 
curgus did, and Solon did not establish an aristocracy. Neither 
of them could create or annihilate the matexials of their re- 
spective governments. The people of Attica, who called 
themselves with no little vanity, MVTo^6ove<;i or the original peo- 
ple, constituted a democracy, v/hich could not be forced, and 
would not be persuaded to establish a body of governing nobles. 
Lycuigus, on the contrary, found a numerous and powerful 
race of the first conquerors, outnumbered by slaves who were 



446 THE INSTITUTIONS 

kept in suojection by an aristoci-acy with two kings at their 
head. Accordingly, it seems to have been the utmost extent 
of his undertaking, to new model the government rather than 
the nation. The aristocracy Avas itself in danger of degenerat- 
ing into an oligarchy, and was exposed to perish by its own 
inevitable factions, as well as by the silent growth and conse- 
quent encroachments of the unprivileged classes of the citizens. 
Already the extreme disorders of the state portended convul- 
sions and revolution. 

In this emergency he devised such expedients as Avould 
give, not liberty to the people, which seenas not to have been 
in the least degree his concern, but stability and perpetuity to 
the aristocracy. He formed, or, perhaps, only revived a senate 
of twenty eight members, elected for life by the numerous 
body of the noble Spartans. These Sjmrta7is had also their 
assemblies monthly, in Avhich they exercised very important 
functions of the government. Thus two bodies were formed, 
who may be thought to bear some resemblance to the houses 
of lords and commons in England. 

Having thus placed the govei-nment in the hands of the 
S/iartans, much Avas still necessaiy to enable them to maintain 
it. In that age pre-eminence could neither be gained, nor se- 
cured by commerce or arts, but only by arms. Here, then, Ave 
see the obvious necessity of the case, that Lycurgus should, 
by his system of education and his discipline, make these 
S/iarta7is really superiour to the men they governed. This 
Avas the more necessary, as Ave are informed by ancient writers, 
that they Avere detested by the rest of the inhabitants. 

This being admitted, and it can scarcely be denied, we can 
no longer so much as conceive, that it was the policy or any 
part of the plan of Lycurgus to include all the free citizens 
of Laconia, or even of the city of Sparta, in his great system 
of education. It was his object to establish an incontestible 
superiority in favour of the Spartans. By infusing into the 
other citizens the pride and desperate fanaticism of the nobles, 
the former, being also perfectly Avell trained to arms, avouIc! 



OF LYCURGUS. 447 

have been as incapable of submission and as capable of rule as 
their superiours. 

Admitting that nothing is so much for the interest of a 
class of men as power, and they are very apt to think that no- 
thing is, then surely nothing could be more for the interest of 
the aristocracy than the laws of Lycurgus, for in consequence 
of them they maintained their authority over the state for many 
ages. The power of the Roman patricians was from the first 
balanced, imperfectly enough we confess, by the people ; but 
the whole power of the Lacedaemonian state was engrossed by 
tlie Spartans. Until the establishment of the ephori, one hun- 
dred and thirty years after Lycurgus, it does not appear, that, 
in respect to political power, there was any other people : the 
rest of the inhabitants of Laconia and Sparta were nothing. 

If Lycurgus met with infinite difficulty in getting his laws 
established, it is certain he had vast means of influence in the 
pi'ide and ambition of the nobles, who were so greatly inte- 
rested in their adoption. In so great a length of time as had 
elapsed since the return of the HeraclidK, many of these no- 
bles, and probably still more of the soldiery, had diminished or 
alienated their original lots of land. The poor members of 
the aristocracy and of the militia would, of course, insist upon 
restoring the ancient division of lands by a new assignment. 
Lycurgus, knowing that power follows property, and especially 
property in lands, and intending to prevent all rivalship with 
the aristocracy by giving to that body and their military depen- 
dants a monopoly of the lands, was inclined and enabled to 
restore the original division. 

It cannot be believed, that, without such reasons and helps, 
he could have originated a plan for an arbitrary assignment of 
the territory. On the contrary, it may be fairly presumed, that 
very few, and those great proprietors, were dispossessed, and 
very many were accommodated. By thus creating a stock of 
popularity with one class of men, and those the most nume- 
rous, he could use it to compel the subinission of another and 
the most refractory. This, we are informed, is precisely what 



44S THE INSTITUTIOXS 

he did. Thus he established a perpetual fund for the support 
of this ruling aristocracy. 

That it might be perpetual, he made the lands unalienable, 
though inheritable ; he proscribed all trade, manufactures, and 
luxury, and even gold and silver coins. He foresaw, that in- 
dustry and trade Avould bring in wealth ; and that wealth would 
confer distinction. In this event the military spirit would de- 
cline, and the unprivileged orders of the state would rise into 
importance. To guard against this disturbance of the opera- 
tion of his system, he exerted all his great abilities to provide 
every political expedient possible to keep Sparta poor and 
warlike. 

It will never be imagined, when he gave the purse to one 
set of men, oi', in otlier words, all the lands to the aristocracy 
and the military, that he gave the sword to another set. On 
the contrary, we shall find, that he established a complete mo- 
nopoly of power and property in favour of the S/iartans. It 
has been already observed, that this governing order resided 
chiefiy in the city ; and that we no where read of a Spartan 
education out of it. The inhabitants of Laconia, we are told, 
were deemed inferiour to those of the city, not having- the same 
education. 

Are we to suppose, that the inhabitants of even the city of 
Sparta, or all such as were free, were indiscriminately fed at the 
publick tables, and daily subjected to the whole discipline of Ly- 
curgus ? Even this is incredible. It cannot be imagined, that the 
landholders, of whom the number in Sparta and its immediate 
territory was at first nine thousand, were thus assembled and 
fed. If we take half that number for the city alone, we shall 
not readily admit, that they were educated and trained in this 
manner. 

We should confine our calculation to the noble Spartans 
only ; for Sparta was undoubtedly a great city, though we 
know not the extent of its population. But, as it contained 
inhabitants enough, though wholly unfortified and without 
walls, twice to repulse Epaminondas with his victorious army, 
we may reckon Sparta to be equal to Thebes or Athens. It 



OF LYCURGUS. 449 

was accounted one of the great cities of Greece, and might 
have fifty or sixty thousand inhabitants, certainly ten times too 
many to be fed in the publick halls or in the barracks. As the 
landholders were a militia, and not a regular standing army, it 
is on that account the less to be admitted, that they were daily 
drawn out, exercised, and fed. Xenophon says, he has seen 
five thousand Lacedaemonians assembled together, and was 
scarcely able to pick out thirty S/iartans. The Lacedemo- 
nian ai'mies often marched on expeditions with less than one 
hundred of this order. 

This distinction was not merely nominal ; if it had been, it 
would have soon disappeared from its frivolousness ; and it 
must have been frivolous to the last degree, if these Spartans 
had not received a different sort of education, and claimed a 
very superiour rank and authority in the state. When one 
hundred and thirty Spartans were shut up and besieged in the 
little island of Sphacteria, the government was extremely agi- 
tated, and offered to make the most extraordinary concessions 
to Athens to pi'ocure the release of these men. To the aris- 
tocracy, their destruction seemed like a dismemberment of 
their body. 

This governing class, being also the fighting class, was 
continually diminishing. On the defeat of the Lacedemonians 
at Leuctra, the government was thrown into the deepest con- 
sternation, because so unusual a number of Spartans and the 
king Cleombrotus were slain. They saw with pain and ter- 
rour the reduction of the numbers, and the proportionate re- 
duction of the influence and power of their order. 

It may after all be said, although these facts prove, that all 
the free inhabitants of Sparta were not S/mrtans, yet it still re- 
mains a question, whether all the former did not receive the 
strict education prescribed by Lycurgus. 

It is true, there is no express evidence to that point ; but 
we may take these facts as evidence of the spirit of the govern- 
ment, and conclusive evidence, that from its very nature it 
could have no other spirit. That being premised, it would be 
truly surprising, that the strict discipline and education of the 
57 



4i0 THE INSTITUTIONS 

great legislator should be enforced upon all the citizens. As 
■a common education makes ?ne7i, could it be, that a Spartan 
education, which made heroes, was lavished upon the trades- 
men of the city ; (for the necessary trades were allowed from 
the first, and, no doubt, many more had got footing there,) 
upon the strangers, who might happen to reside in the city ; 
and, above all, upon the numerous description of the sons of 
Helots, who had been made free for their services to the 
state ? 

As a mortal hatred subsisted between those freedmen and 
the nobles, it cannot be allowed, that these latter bad permitted, 
much less required, an exact equality as to the use of arms 
and every admired accomplishment that could be derived from 
education. On ,that supposition, ten or twenty thousand base- 
born heroes would have snatched the sway from the hands of 
less than one thousand heaven-descended heroes of the blood 
of Hercules. The education that conferred gloiy and distinc- 
tion, for its chief object was to make every thing else seem 
vile, would have made power tempting, too tempting to remain 
for ages within reach, yet untouched. 

On these grounds we seem to be authorized to conclude, that 
the Spartan education and discipline were not imposed on all 
the free inhabitants, although the language used by all the 
imcient writers on the subject scarcely admits of their restric- 
tion to the noble and iTiilitaiy classes. Polybius, who is as 
remarkable for his gravity as for his good sense, warmly ex- 
claims in praise of Lycurgus, as a sort of divinity, who had 
created a nation anew by his system of education. 

We may conjecture, that the noble class, being the only 
one that attracted much notice, was put for the nation ; or it 
might be, that, while the sons of the nobles Were educated by 
the state, great numbers of an inferiour order were trained as 
soldiers ; and these distinctions being known to eveiy body -in 
the time of Xenophon, were not deemed to require a minute 
explanation. However that may be, Herodotus, whose notion 
of the universality of the Spartan system seems to be like that 
of all succeeding writers, uses an expression, that will coun- 



OF LYCURGUS. 451 

tenance our restriction of it, as we have before suggested. 
Giving an account of the dignity of the Spaitan kings, he says : 
" if they dine at the publick feasts, as they are obliged to do, 
unless specially excused, they are allowed a double portion of 
the food, as also if they are feasted by a private citizen" 
How could a private citizen invite a Spartan king to dine with 
him, if he were himself obliged to dine in the publick hall ?* 
May we not, then, infer from this passage of Herodotus, that 
the citizens of Sparta dined and supped in their own houses ? 

That the regulations of Lycurgus for the education of 
youth, and for convening the citizens at the publick meals, 
were not extended to all the inhabitants of the city of Sparta 
and its tei'ritory, may be inferred from some of the facts trans- 
mitted to us by Xenophon and Plutarch. When a male child 
was born, and, after being examined by publick officers, pro- 
nounced sound and worth the bringing up, one of the nine 
thousand lots was immediately assigned to him. Now, if a 
tradesman's, a slave's, or a stranger's son should happen to be 
born of as good a shape as a noble Spartan's, is it to be suppos- 
ed, a lot would be given to the former and refused to the 
latter, who might come into the world the day after they were 
all disposed of. A populous city, like Sparta, would have 
more healthy male children than lots. But supposing the dis- 
tribution confined to the continually diminishing military class 
of Spartans, there would be more lots than children ; and this 
was in fact the case. The lands assigned as a fund for the 
military class, proved more than sufficient for the number of 
Spartans. Supposing it liable to be absorbed by other chil- 
dren, it would not only have proved insufficient, but it would 
have been employed to defeat its original use and destination, 
to raise the degraded classes, and to stint or starve the military 
class. 

Another fact is worth observation. At the messes or 
tables of the publick meals, which, we ax'e told, admitted 
fifteen, no person was received without the consent of the 
whole company. Can we, then, suppose for a moment, the 
law required every inhabitant to eat at these tables, and yet 



452 THE INSTITUTIONS 

authorized every citizen to exclude him ? Where was he t® 
dine ? And where, let it be asked, were those persons to dine, 
who, having lost their arms, or turned their backs in battle, 
were stigmatized and shunned by all citizens ? 

Again, we are told, the very children were obliged to attend 
those meals, because they heard only wise and solid discourse 
on such occasions. If the ignorant, sordid rabble of a great 
city were really seated at those tables, will any man think, that 
Lycurgus himself, if he had lived as long as his institutions, 
could have kept order ? or that, without a miraculous inspira- 
tion, as often as the tables were spread, the conversation could 
have been edifying ? It is incredible and absurd. 

The sons of noble Spartans were, no doubt, educated by the 
state, were kept in an academy, dined and supped together, 
and, probably, it was the official duty of the kings to superin- 
tend their education. They were trained, not as citizens, but 
as rulers ; not simply as soldiers, but as generals. To perpe- 
tuate the aristocracy, the government took care to exclude 
accident, caprice, and folly as much as possible from all in- 
fluence on the young nobles. It is obvious, that the stability 
of the government depended on its transmitting its peculiar 
identity of perfection from generation to generation. All this 
makes it natural, that the rulers should be educated by the state, 
and that the citizens who had only to obey, should not be. This 
idea derives some further force from the observation of Plu- 
tarch, who says : " the chief object of Lycurgus being a sys- 
tem of education^ and to establish habits and manners, he would 
not permit his laws to be reduced to writing." This can hard- 
ly be supposed, if they were intended for a whole nation. The 
class of Spartans, though amounting to several thousands ori- 
ginally, Avere reduced in the time of Xenophon to about seven 
hundred ; and even of these the greater part were in a state of 
poverty. Agis and Cleomenes, two kings of Lacedxmon, suc- 
cessiv ely attempted to restore the strict discipline of Lycurgus. 
Plutarch informs us, that Cleomenes, when attempting to en- 
force a new division of the lands, alleged in recommendation 
of the measure, that it would provide means for admitting 



OF LYCURGUS. 453 

foreigners of merit to citizenship. The state in that case, he 
said, would no longer want defenders, alluding to the reduced 
number of Spartans. This government had ever been to the 
last degree averse from granting citizenship, precisely because 
the exclusive possessors of power are ever unwilling to admit 
partners. Now, if there were many thousand able-bodied brave 
men in Sparta, as Cleomenes knew there were, for he led a 
gallant army of them into the field, why did he lament the want 
of defenders of the state ? Why did he speak of adi"nitting 
foreigners to take lands and become citizens, when it was so 
easy a thing to raise Lacedxmonians to be Spartans, especially 
too if they had received the same publick education ? It is 
however evident from this passage of Plutarch, that they had 
not received such an education, that they did not hold so high 
a rank in the state, and that it could not be gratuitously con- 
ferred upon them. J^oble foreigners might be made citizens 
without any degradation of the Spartan pride ; but the admis- 
sion of the plebeian inhabitants of Sparta to a higher rank would 
be a source both of individual mortification and of publick dis- 
order : the partition between ranks would be broken down. 

We shall be further confirmed in our opinion of the ex- 
clusive aristocratical policy of the Spartan government by a 
closer observation of its effects. 

In the Lacedemonian state thei'e were two descriptions of 
slaves, the Helots^ \\\\o were an oppressed, degraded peasan- 
try, the cultivators of the soil on a fixed rent for their Spartan 
landlords ; and the domestick slaves, who were treated with 
still greater rigour. These two classes are supposed to have 
amounted to nearly one half the population. The free citizens 
may be also placed in two classes, the Spartans and the Lace- 
demonians. These latter must at all times have greatly ex- 
ceeded the Spartans in numbei', yet by the original plan of 
Lycurgus their political power was next to nothing. 

The kings and their wives, the senators and all magistrates, 
except the ephori, and it is believed all military officers of 
high rank, must have been Spartans. The Spartans were 
electors also of the senators for life ; but, as the choice was 



454 THE INSTITUTIONS 

determined by a computation of the number of suffrages by 
the noise of the acclamations, in favour of a candidate, it may be 
conjectured, the senate in effect filled up the vacancies in its 
own body. A Spartan assembly was held once a month. Thus, 
we see, the powers of government were engrossed by a senate, 
and its dignities and privileges by an hereditary aristocracy. 

There was indeed a general assembly of the Lacedxmoniau 
nation to determine on peace, war, and alliances. To this 
assembly deputies from the several cities and from the allied 
states wei'e admitted. Yet, as it was convened at Sparta, as its 
objects concerned chiefly the external policy, and as the effec- 
tive government was in the hands of the aristocracy, it was not 
found to disturb or divide their monopoly of power. 

To perpetuate this order of things, Lycurgus was not more 
solicitous by his institutions to elevate one class, than to depress 
and disarm every other. We must repeat it, for this reason 
it was, he forbad all arts, except such as could not be dispensed 
with ; even learning itself was denied its honours ; he did not 
allow his Spartans to travel into foreign countries, nor foreign- 
ers to be admitted to Sparta ; he interdicted trade, luxury, and 
gold and silver ; he would have his Spartans wholly intent on 
military distinction : arms and only arms should confer gloiy. 
His Spartans did not labour themselves, bvit the Helots labour- 
ed for them. Not only was the monopoly of power complete, 
but the I'oots and seeds of future rivalship by the depressed 
classes of the society seemed to be exterminated. 

Here let us piiuse to make a reflection. For more than 
two thousand years the world has been loud and violent in its 
pane gy rick of Spartan virtue^ because Lycurgus had bestowed 
all possible care to make his nobles brave, without having 
employed the least to make them honest; because he had 
made, them love power better than labour ; because they loved 
their country, while they owned and governed it ; and because, 
when riches did not command honour, and titled poverty did, 
they sought honour in the only way in which it was to be had, 
and. held that preferable which every body in that age actually 
preferred. Spartan virtue did not, most certainly, include 



OF LYCURGUS. 455 

morals. The Roman Cincinnatus was proud of his birth, 
and, probably, much the prouder for his poverty. It is not 
at this degenerate day at all essential to the glory of a great 
general, that he should have a great estate. 

Effectual as for some ages this policy of Lycurgus was, 
time and the revolution of human affairs at length gradually 
subverted it. The depressed classes of the state slowly rose 
from the ground, and from the feet of the aristocracy, and 
claimed and took their station in society. 

It may be supposed, the Spartans exacted at first from 
the Helots who cultivated the soil as large a part of the pro- 
duce as they possibly could. It was easier to require than 
to get much ; indeed, by requiring too much, they would 
get nothing. Despair would baffle rapacity. It is also to 
be conceded, that the proportion once fixed must remain 
fixed. This, ancient writers inform us, was the case. Now, 
as the Spartans were a body continually diminishing, their 
power to extort must have declined with their numbers. 
Time also must have made great changes in the value of the 
rents, though payable in kind. Accordingly, we are told, 
that most of the Spax'tan families fell into poverty, and many 
of the Helots became very rich. Their rise to some share 
of political and personal importance was the necessary con- 
sequence. 

It was only one hundred and thirty years after Lycurgus, 
that the operation of these principles was made manifest, 
and their progress accelerated, by the establishment of the 
ephori. These five annual magistrates resembled the Ro- 
man tribunes of the people, were elected by the mass of the 
nation, and in fact were often selected from the dregs of the 
people. At first their power and their pretensions were 
moderate ; but, as the aristocracy continued to decline, and 
the democracy, whose favourites and champions they were, 
made haste to raise itself, they gradually subverted the 
original system of the government, and engrossed its powers. 



456 THE INSTITUTIONS 

They deposed kings, and exercised the functions of sove- 
reignty themselves. 

Hence it is, that all antiquity bewails the decay of Spartan 
virtue. The citizens had not declined from virtue, for the 
Spartan morals were ever bad ; but the aristocracy had fallen 
from power. Polybius assures us, that the institutions of 
Lycurgus were admirably adapted to Sparta, while it was 
content to remain a small state, and refrained from ambitious 
wars to conquer Greece and Asia. Their degeneracy is 
dated from the time when Lysander took Athens, and when 
Agesilaus made his expedition against the Persian king. 
Sparta was then filled with rich spoils, and corruption enter- 
ed, they say, w^ith riches. The labouring classes had always 
loved property, but were deprived, as much as possible, by 
Lycurgus of all chances to amass it. The governing class 
had not, until these wars, enjoyed many opportunities to get 
it, nor had it then become an object of personal influence and 
consideration. 

But too much influence seems to be allowed to these vic- 
tories. In a very early age, the Lacedaemonians, after an 
obstinate and long protracted contest, had subdued Messene, 
a state little less considerable than their own, and made 
slaves of the people. The property was the booty of the 
conquerors ; yet they maintained their laws for many hun- 
di'ed years after that event. The Romans were conquerors 
from the days of Romulus, if we except the peaceful reign 
of Numa ; yet the greatest boasts of Roman simplicity and 
virtue, of love of country and contempt of wealth, are made 
in the very crisis of their most dangerous wars with Pyrrhus 
and the Samnitcs, which gave them the dominion of Italy. 

Had the Lacedaemonians abstained from wars of ambition, 
they would have changed, or, as it is the fashion to term it, 
degenerated. The wars of Lysander and Agesilaus furnish- 
ed the occasions, but were not the causes of the change. 
When property and power, once a Spartan monopoly, had 
passed into other hands, the change was inevitable. 



OP LYCURGUS. 45r 

Spartan equality hassbeen the everlasting boast of decla- 
mation. It was not Lycurgus's view to make his nobles bet- 
ter, but to raise them higher than other men ; and that they 
might to the end of time be sustained at that point of eleva- 
tion, he contrived to sink all other classes to servitude or 
insignificance. The nobles were a sort of perpetual garri- 
son for Sparta. Lycurgus did not intend to train all the 
inhabitants to be nobles. 

Having made this accurate distinction of orders in the 
state, and removed, as far as human wisdom could do it, all 
the causes that might revive their rivalships and struggles, 
he may be pronounced the friend of the independence and 
of the tranquillity of his country, but without excessive absur- 
dity, he cannot be allowed to be the founder of equal liberty. 
The Lacedaemonians had all the liberty, and most of the vir- 
tues and vices of a camp, which is always quiet, and gene- 
rally has reason to be, as long as subordination is maintained. 

Is it wonderful, then, that a state, thus admirably organ- 
ized for its own peculiar purposes, was able, for so many 
centuries, to preserve itself unsubdued by its hostile neigh- 
bours ? or that the aristocracy, who engrossed all political 
power, as well as the command of armies, should be able so 
long to hinder the excluded orders of the state from obtain- 
ing a share in the government of it ? 



58 



C 458 3 



AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

X EW speculative subj^ects have exercised the passions 
more or the judgment less, than the inquiry, what rank our 
country is to maintain in the world for genius and literary 
attainments. Whether in point of intellect we are equal to 
Europeans, or only a race of degenerate Creoles ; whether 
our artists and authors have already performed much and 
promise every thing ; whether the muses, like the nightin- 
gales, are too delicate to cross the salt water, or sicken and 
mope without song, if they do, are themes upon which we 
Americans are privileged to be eloquent and loud. It might, 
indeed, occur to our discretion, that, as the only admissible 
proof of literary excellence is the measure of its effects, our 
national claims ought to be abandoned as worthless the mo- 
ment they are found to need asserting. 

Nevertheless, by a proper spirit and constancy in prais- 
ing ourselves, it seems to be supposed, the doubtful title of our 
vanity may be quieted, in the same manner as it was once be- 
lieved, the currency of the continental paper could, by a uni- 
versal agreement, be established at par with specie. Yet, 
such was the unpatriotick perverseness of our citizens, they 
preferred the gold and silver for no better reason than be- 
cause the paper bills were not so good. And now it may 
happen, that, from spite or envy, from want of attention or 
the want of our sort of information, foreigners will dispute 
the claims of our pre-eminence in genius and literature, not- 
withstanding the great convenience and satisfaction we should 
find in their acquiescence. 

In this unmanageable temper or indocile ignorance of 
Europe, we may be under the harsh necessity of submitting 
our pretensions to a scrutiny ; and, as the world will judge of 
the matter with none of our partiality, it may be discreet to 



AMERICAN LITERATURE. 459 

anticipate that judgment, and to explore the grounds upon 
•which, it is probable, the aforesaid uorld will frame it. And 
after all we should suffer more pain than loss, if we should 
in ihe event be stripped of all that does not belong to us ; 
and, especially, if by a better knowledge of ourselves we 
should gain that modesty, which is the first evidence, and, 
perhaps, the last of a real improvement. For no man is less 
likely to increase his knowledge than the coxcomb, who 
fancies he has already learned out. An excessive national 
vanity, as it is the sign of mediocrity, if not of barbarism, 
is one of the greatest impediments to knowledge. 

It will be useless and impertinent to say, a greater pro- 
portion of our citizens have had instruction in schools, than • 
can be found in any European state. It may be true," that 
neither France nor England can boast of so large a portion, 
of their population, who can read and write, aud who are 
versed in the profitable mystery of the rule of three. This 
is not the footing upon which the inquiry is to proceed. 
The question is not, what proportion are stone blind, or 
how many can see, when the sun shines, but what geniuses 
have arisen among us, like the sun and stars to shed life 
and splendour on our hemisphere. 

This state of the case is no sooner made, than all the fire- 
fly tribe of our authors perceive their little lamps go out of 
themselves, like the flame of a candle when lowered into the 
mephitick vapour of a well. Excepting the writers of two able 
•works on our poHticks, we have no authors. To enter the lists 
in single combat against Hector, the Greeks did not offer 
the lots to the nameless rabble of their soldiery ; all eyes 
were turned upon Agamemnon and Ajax, upon Diomed 
and Ulysses. Shall we match Joel Barlow against Homer 
or Hesiod ? Can Thomas Paine contend against Plato ? Or 
could Findley's history of his own insui'rection vie with Sal- 
lust's narrative of Catiline's ? There is no scarcity of spel- 
ling-book-makers, and authors of twelve cent pamphlets ; and 
we have a distinguished few, a sort of literary nobility, whose 



460 AMBRICAN LITERATURE. 

works have grown to the dignity and size of an octavo volume. 
We have many writers, who have read, and who have the 
sense to understand what others have written. But a right 
perception of the genius of others is not genius : it is a sort 
of business talent, and will not be wanting where there is 
much occasion for its exercise. Nobody will pretend, that 
the Americans are a stupid race ; nobody will deny, that we 
justly boast of many able men, and exceedingly useful publica- 
tions. But has our country produced one great original 
work of genius ? If we tread the sides of Parnassus, we do 
not climb its heights ; we even creep in our path, by the light 
that European genius has thrown upon it. ' Is there one 
luminary in our firmament that shines with unborrowed rays? 
Do we reflect, how many constellations blend their beams in 
the history of Greece, which will appear bright to the end of 
time, like the path of the zodiack, bespangled with stars. 

If, then, we judge of the genius of our nation by the suc- 
cess with which American authors have displayed it, our 
country has certainly hitherto no pretensions to literary 
fame. The world will naturally enough pronounce its opin- 
ion, that what we have not performed we are incapable of 
performing. 

It is not intended to proceed in stripping our country's 
honours off, till every lover of it shall turn with disgust from 
the contemplation of its nakedness. Our honours have not 
faded — they have not been worn. Genius, no doubt, exists 
in our country, but it exists, like the unbodied soul on the 
stream of Lethe, unconscious of its powers, till the causes 
to excite and the occasions to display it shall happen to 
concur. 

What were those causes, that have for ever consecrated 
the name of Greece ? We are sometimes answered, she owes 
her fame to the republican liberty of her states. But Homer, 
and Hesiod, to say nothing of Linus, Orpheus, Musaeus, and 
many others, wrote while kings governed those states. Ana- 
ereon and Simonides flourished in the court of Pisistratus, who 



AMERICAN LITERATURE. 461 

had overthrown the democracy of Athens. Nor, we may add 
in corroboration, did Roman genius flourish, till the repub- 
lick fell. France and England are monarchies, and they 
have excelled all modern nations by their works of genius. 
Hence we have a right to conclude, the form of government 
has not a decisive, and certainly not an exclusive influence 
on the literary eminence of a people. 

If climate produces genius, how happens it, that the great 
men who reflected such honour on their country appeared 
only in the period of a few hundred years before the death 
of Alexander ? The melons and figs of Greece are still as 
fine as ever ; but where are the Pindars ? 

In affairs that concern morals, we consider the approbation 
of a man's own conscience as more precious than all human 
rewards. But, in the province of the imagination, the applause 
of others is of all excitements the strongest. This excitement 
is the cause ; excellence, the effect. When every thing con- 
curs, and in Greece every thing did concur, to augment its 
power, a nation wakes at once from the sleep of ages. It would 
seem as if some Minerva, some present divinity, inhabited 
her own temple in Athens, and by flashing light and work- 
ing miracles had conferred on a single people, and almost on 
a single age of that people, powers that are denied to other 
men and other times. The admiration of posterity is excited 
and overstrained by an effulgence of glory, as much beyond 
our comprehension as our emulation. The Greeks seem to 
us a race of giants, Titans, the rivals, yet the favourites of 
their gods. We think their apprehension was quicker, their 
native taste more refined, their prose poetry, their poetry 
m^usick, their musick enchantment. We imagine they had 
more expression in their faces, more grace in their move- 
ments, more sweetness in the tones of conversation than the 
moderns. Their fabulous deities are supposed to have left 
their heaven to breathe the fragrance of their groves, and 
to enjoy the beauty of their landscapes. The monuments of 
heroes must have excited to heroism ; and the fountains, 



462 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

which the muses had chosen for their purity, imparted in- 
spiration. 

It is, indeed, almost impossible to contemplate the bright 
ages of Greece, without indulging the propensity to enthu- 
siasm. 

We are ready to suspect the delusion of our feelings, and 
to ascribe its fame to accident, or to causes which have spent 
their force. Genius, we imagine, is for ever condemned to 
inaction by having exhausted its power, as well as the subjects 
upon which it has displayed itself. Another Homer or Vir- 
gil could only copy the Iliad and jEneid ; and can the se- 
cond poets, from cinders and ashes, light such a fire as still 
glows in the writings of the first. Genius, it will be said, 
like a conflagi'ation on the mountains, consumes its fuel in its 
flame. Not so — It is a spark of elemental fire that is un- 
quenchable, the contemporary of this creation, and destined 
with the human soul to survive it. As well might the stars 
of heaven be said to expend their substance by their lustre. 
It is to the intellectual world what the electrick fluid is to 
nature, diffused every where, yet almost every where hid- 
den, capable by its own mysterious laws of action and by the 
very breath of applause, that like the vmseen wind excites it, 
of producing effects that appear to transcend all power, ex- 
cept that of some supernatural agent riding in the whirlwind. 
In an hour of calm we suddenly hear its voice, and are moved 
with the general agitation. It smites, astonishes, and con- 
founds, and seems to kindle half the firmament. 

It may be true, that some departments in literature are 
so filled by the ancients, that there is no room for modern 
excellence to occupy. Homer wrote soon after the lieroick 
ages, and the fertility of the soil seemed in some measure to 
arise from its freshness : it had never borne a crop. Another 
Iliad would not be undertaken by a true genius, nor equally 
interest this age, if he executed it. But it will not be correct 
to say, the field is reduced to barrenness from having been 
over-cropped. Men have still imagination and passions, and 



AMERICAN LITERATURE. 463 

they can be excited. The same causes that made Greece 
famous, would, if they existed here, quicken the clods of our 
vallies, and make our Boeotia sprout and blossom like their 
Attica. 

Iv analyzing genius and considering how it acts, it will be 
proper to inquire, how it is acted upon. It feels the power 
it exerts, and its emotions are contagious, because they are 
fervid and sincere. A single man may sit alone and medi- 
tate, till he fancies he is under no influence but that of reason. 
Even in this opinion, however, he will allow too little for pre- 
judice and imagination ; and still more must be allowed when 
he goes abroad and acts in the world. But masses and socie- 
ties of men are governed by their passions. 

The passion that acts the strongest, when it acts at all, is 
fear ; for, in its excess, it silences all reasoning and all other 
passions. But that which acts with the greatest force, be- 
cause it acts with the greatest constancy, is the desire of 
consideration. There are very few men who are gi'eatly 
deceived with respect to their own measure of sense and 
abilities, or who are much dissatisfied on that account ; but 
we scarcely see any who are quite at ease about the estimate 
that other people make of them. Hence it is, that the great 
business of mankind is to fortify or create claims to general 
regard. Wealth procures I'espect, and more wealth would 
procure more respect. The man who, like Midas, turns all 
he touches into gold, who is oppressed and almost buried in 
its superfluity, who lives to get, instead of getting to live, 
and at length belongs to his own estate and is its greatest 
incumbrance, still toils and contrives to accumulate wealth, 
not because he is deceived in regard to his wants, but because 
he knows and feels, that one of his wants, which is insatiable, 
is that respect which follows its possession. After engross- 
ing all that the seas and mountains conceal, he would be still 
unsatisfied, and with some good reason, for of the treasures 
of esteem who can ever have enough ? Who would mar or 
renounce one half his reputation in the world ? 



464 AMERICAN LITERATURE, 

At different times, the opinions of men in the same coun- 
try will vary with regard to the objects of prime considera- 
tion, and in different countries there will ever be a great 
difference ; but that which is the first object of regard will 
be the chief object of pursuit. Men will be most excited to 
excel in that department which offers to excellence the 
highest reward in the respect and admiration of mankind. It 
was this strongest of all excitements that stimulated the lite- 
rary ages of Greece. 

In the heroick times, it is evident, violence and injustice 
prevailed. The state of society was far from tranquil or 
safe. Indeed, the trai^itional fame of the heroes and demi- 
gods is founded on the gratitude that was due for their 
protection against tyrants and I'obbers, Thucydides tells 
us, that companies of travellers were often asked, whether 
they were thieves. Greece was divided into a great number 
of states, all turbulent, all martial, always filled with emula- 
tion, and often with tumult and blood. The laws of war 
were far more rigorous than they are at present. Each state, 
and each citizen in the state, contended for all that is dear to 
man. If victors, they despoiled their enemies of every thing ; 
the property was booty, and the people were made slaves. 
Such was the condition of the Helots and Messenians under 
the yoke of Sparta. There was every thing, then, both of 
terrour and ignominy to rouse the contending states to make 
every effort to avoid subjugation. 

The fate of Plataea, a city that was besieged and taken by 
the Spartans, and whose citizens were massacred in cold 
blood, affords a terrible illustration of this remark. The 
celebrated siege of Troy is an instance more generally 
known, and no less to the purpose. With what ardent love 
and enthusiasm the Trojans viewed their Hector, and the 
Greeks their Ajax and Achilles, is scarcely to be conceived. 
It cannot be doubted, that to excel in arms was the first of 
all claims to the popular admiration. 



AMERICAN LITERATURE. 465 

Nor can it escape observation, that in times of extreme dan- 
ger the internal union of a state would be most perfect. In 
these days we can have no idea of the ardour of ancient 
patriotism. A society of no great extent was knit together 
like one family by the ties of love, emulation, and enthusiasm. 
Fear, the strongest of all passions, operated in the strongest of 
all ways. Hence we find, that the first traditions of all nations 
concern the champions who defended them in war. 

This universal state of turbulence and danger, while it 
would check the progress of the accurate sciences, would 
greatly extend the dominion of the imagination. It would be 
deemed of more importance, to rouse or command the feel- 
ings of men, than to augment or correct their knowledge. 

In this period it might be supposed, that eloquence display- 
ed its power ; but this was not the case. Views of refined 
policy and calculations of remote conseciuences were not adapt- 
ed to the taste or capacity of rude warriours, who did not rea- 
son at all, or only reasoned from their passions. The business 
was not to convince, but to animate ; and this was accomplish- 
ed by poetry. It was enough to inspire the poet's enthusiasm, 
to know beforehand, that his nation would partake it. 

Accordingly, the bard was considered as the interpreter 
and favourite of the gods. His strains were received with 
equal rapture and reverence as the effusions of an immediate 
inspiration. They were made the vehicles of their traditions to 
diffuse and perpetuate the knowledge of memorable events and 
illustrious men. 

We grossly mistake the matter, if we suppose, that poetry- 
was received of old with as much apathy as it is at the present 
day. Books are now easy of access ; and literary curiosity suf- 
fers oftener from repletion than from hunger. National events 
slip from the memory to our records : they miss the heart, 
though they are sure to reach posterity. 

It was not thus the Grecian chiefs listened to Phemius or 
Demodocus, the bards mentioned by Homer. It was not thus 
that Homer's immortal verse was received by his country- 
men. The thrones of Priam and Agamemnon were both long 
59 



466 AMERlCxVX LITERATURE. 

ago subverted ; their kingdoms and those of their conquerors 
have long since disappeared, and left no wreck nor memorial 
behind ; but the glory of Homer has outlived his country and 
its language, andAvill remain unshaken like TenerifFe or Atlas, 
the ancestor of history and the companion of time to the end 
of his course. O ! had he in his lifetime enjoyed, though in 
imagination, but a glimpse of his own glory, woiild it not have 
swelled his bosom with fresh enthusiasm, and quickened all 
his powers ? What will not ambition do for a crown ? and 
what crown can vie with Homer's. 

Though the art of alphabetick writing was known in the 
East in the time of the Trojan war, it is no where mentioned 
by Homer, who is so exact and full in describing all the arts 
he knew. If his poems v/ere in writing, the copies were few ; 
and the knowledge of them was diffused, not by reading, but 
by the rhapsodists, who made it a profession to recite his 
verses. 

Poetry, of consequence, enjoyed in that age, in respect to 
the vivacity of its impressions, and the significance of the 
applauses it received, as great advantages as have ever since 
belonged to the theatre. Instead of a cold perusal in a closet, 
or a still colder confinement, unread, in a bookseller's shop, the 
poet saw with delight his work become the instructer of the 
wise, the companion of the brave and the great. Alexander 
locked up the Iliad in the precious cabinet of Darius, as a 
treasure of more value than the spoils of the king of Persia. 

But though Homer contributed so much and so early to fix 
tlie language, to refine the taste, and inflame the imagination 
of the Greeks, his work, by its very excellence, seeins to have 
(|uenched the emvUation of succeeding poets to attempt the 
epick. It was not till long after his age, and by very slow 
degrees, that ^schylus, SophoclQS, and Euripides carried the 
tragick art to its perfection. 

For many hundred years there seems to have been no other 
literary taste, and, ind-ced, no other literature than poetry. 
When there was so much to excite and reward genius, as no 
rival to Homer appeared, it is a clear proof, that nature did not 



AMERICAN LITERATURE. 467 

\)i-oduce one. We look back on the history of Greece, and 
the names of illustrious geniuses thicken on the page, like the 
stars that seem to sparkle in clusters in the sky. But if with 
Homer's own spirit we could walk the n(iilky-way, we should 
find, that regions of unmeasvired space divide the bright lumi- 
naries that seem to be so near. It is no reproach to the genius 
of America, if it does not produce ordinarily such men as were 
deemed the prodigies of the ancient world. Nature has pro- 
vided for the propagation of men — giants are rare ; and it is 
forbidden by her laws, that there should be races of them. 

If the genius of men could have stretched to the giant's 
size, there was every thing in Greece to nourish its growth 
and invigorate its force. After the time of Homer, the Olym- 
pick and other games were established. All Greece, assembled 
by its deputies, beheld the contests of wit and valour, and saw 
statues and crowns adjudged to the victors, who contended for 
the glory of their native cities as well as for their own. To us 
it may seem, that a handful of laurel leaves was a despicable 
prize. But what were the agonies, what the raptures of the 
contending parties, we may read, but we cannot conceive. 
That reward, which writers are now little excited "to merit, 
because it is doubtful and distant, " the estate which wits 
inherit after death," was in Greece a present possession. That 
pviblick so terrible by its censure, so much more terrible by 
its neglect, was then assembled in person, and the happy genius 
who was crowned victor was ready to expire with the trans- 
ports of his joy. 

There is reason to believe, that poetry was more cultivated 
in those early ages than it ever has been since. The great 
celebrity of the only two epick poems of antiquity, was owing 
to the peculiar circumstances of the ages in which Homer and 
Virgil lived ; and without the concurrence of those circum- 
stances their reputation would have been confined to the 
closets of scholars, without reaching the hearts and kindling 
the fervid enthusiasm of the multitude. Homer wrote of war 
to heroes and their followers, to men, who felt the military 
passion stronger than the love of life ; Virgil, with art at least 



468 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

equal to his genius, addressed his poem to Romans, who loved 
their country with sentiment, with passion, with fanaticism. It 
is scarcely possible, that a modern epick poet should find a 
subject that would take svich hold of the heart, for no such 
subject worthy of poetry exists. Commerce has supplanted 
war, as the passion of the multitude ; and the arts have divided 
and contracted the objects of pursuit. Societies are no longer 
tinder the power of single passions, that once flashed enthusi- 
asHi through them all at once like electricity. Now the pro- 
pensities of mankind balance and neutralize each other, and, of 
course, narrow the range in which poetry used to move. Its 
coruscations are confined, like the northern light, to the polar 
circle of trade and politicks, or, like a transitory meteor, blaze 
in a pamphlet or magazine. 

The time seems to be near, and, perhaps, is already arrived, 
when poetry, at least poetry of transcendent merit, will be con- 
sidered among the lost arts. It is a long time since England 
has produced a first rate poet. If America has not to boast at 
all what our parent country boasts no longer, it will not be 
thought a proof of the deficiency of our genius. 

It is a proof that the ancient literature was wholly occupied 
by poetry, that we are without the works, and, indeed, without 
the names of any other very ancient authors except poets. 
Herodotus is called the father of history ; and he iived and 
wrote between four and five hundred years after Homer. 
Thucydides, it is said, on hearing the applauses bestowed at 
the publick games on the recital of the Avork of Herodotus, 
though he was then a boy, shed tears of emulation. He after- 
wards excelled his rival in that species of writing. 

Excellent, however, as these Grecian histories will ever 
be esteemed, it is somewhat remarkable, that political science 
never received much acquisition in the Grecian democracies. 
If Sparta should be vouched as an exception to this remark, 
it may be replied, Sparta was not a democracy. Lest that, 
however, should pass for an evasion of the point, it may be 
further answered, the constitution of Lycurgus seems to have 
been adapted to Sparta rather as a camp than a society of citi- 



AMERICAN LITERATURE. 469 

zens. His whole system is rather a body of discipline than of 
laws, whose sole object it was, not to refine manners or extend 
knowledge, but to provide for the security of the camji. The 
citizens, with whom any portion of political power was en- 
trusted, were a military cast or class ; and the rigour of Ly- 
curgus's rules and articles was calculated and intended to make 
them superiour to all other soldiers. The same strictness, that 
for so long a time preserved the Spartan government, secures 
the subordination and tranquillity of modern armies. Sparta was, 
of course, no proper field for the cultivation of the science of 
politicks. Nor can we believe, that the turbulent democracies 
of the neighbouring states favoured the growth of that kind of 
knowledge, since we are certain it never did thrive in Greece. 
How could it be, that the assemblies of the people, convened 
to hear flattery or to lavish the publick treasures for plays and 
shews to amuse the populace, should be any more qualified, 
than inclined to listen to political disquisitions, and especially 
to the wisdom and necessity of devising and putting in opera- 
tion systematical checks on their own power, which was threat- 
ened with ruin by its licentiousness and excess, and which 
soon actually overthrew it ? It may appear bold, but truth and 
history seem to warrant the assertion, that political science 
will never become accurate in popular states ; for in them the 
most salutary truths must be too offensive for currency or in- 
fluence. 

It may be properly added, and in perfect consistency with 
the theory before assumed, that fear is the strongest of all pas- 
sions, that in democracies writers will be more afraid of the 
people than afraid. /or them. The principles indispensable to 
liberty are not therefore to be discovered, or, if discovered, not 
to be propagated and established in such a state of things. But 
where the chief magistrate holds the sword, and is the object of 
reverence, if not of popular fear, the direction of prejudice and 
feeling will be changed. Supposing the citizens to have pri- 
A'ileges, and to be possessed of influence, or, in other word?, of 
some power in the state, they will naturally wish so to use the 
power they have, as to be secure against the abuse of that 



470 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

which their chief possesses ; and this universal propensity ot 
the publick wishes will excite and reward the genius that dis- 
covers the way in which this may be done. If we know any 
thing of the true theory of liberty, we owe it to the wisdom, 
or, perhaps more correctly, to the experience of those nations 
whose publick sentiment was employed to check rather than 
to guide the government. 

It is, then, little to be expected, that American writers will 
add much to the common stock of political information. 

It might have been soonet: remai^ked, that the dramatick art 
has not afforded any opportunities for native writers. It is but 
lately that we have had theatres in our cities ; and till our cities 
become large, like London and Paris, the progress of taste will 
be slow, and the rewards of excellence unworthy of the com- 
petitions of genius. 

Nor will it be charged as a mark of our stupidity, that we 
have produced nothing in history. Our own is not yet worthy 
of a Livy ; and to write that of any foreign nation where could 
an American author collect his materials and authorities ? 
Few persons reflect, that all our universities would not suffice 
to supply them for such a work as Gibbon's. 

The reasons, why we yet boast nothing in the abstruse 
sciences, are of a different and more various nature. Much, 
perhaps all, that has been discovered in these is known to 
some of our literati. It does not appear, that Europe is now 
making any advances. But to make a wider diffusion of 
these sciences, and to enlarge their circle, would require the 
learned leisure, which a numerous class enjoy in Europe, but 
which cannot be enjoyed in America. If wealth is accumu- 
lated by commerce, it is again dissipated among heirs. Its 
transitory nature, no doubt, favours the progress of luxury more 
than the advancement of letters. It has among us no uses to 
found families, to sustain rank, to purchase power, or to pen- 
sion genius. The objects on which it must be employed are 
all temporary, and have more concern with mere appetite or 
ostentation than with taste or talents. Our citizens have not 
been accustomed to look on rank or titles, on birth or office 



AMERICAN LITERATURE. 471 

as capable of the least rivalship with wealth, mere wealth, in 
pretensions to respect. Of course the single passion that en- 
grosses us, the only avenue to consideration and importance 
in our society, is the accumulation of property : our inclina- 
tions cling to gold, and are bedded in it as deeply as that pre- 
cious ore in the mine. Covered as our genius is in this min- 
eral crust, is it strange that it does not sparkle ? Pressed down 
to earth, and with the weight of mountains on our heads, is it 
surprising, that no sons of ether yet have spread their broad 
wings to the sky, like Jove's own eagle, to gaze undazzled at 
the sun, or to perch on the top of Olympus and partake the 
banquet of the gods. 

At present the nature of our government inclines all men 
to seek popularity as the object next in point of value to 
wealth ; but the acquisition of learning and the display of ge- 
nius are not the ways to obtain it. Intellectual superiority is 
so far from conciliating confidence, that it is the very spirit of 
a democracy, as in France, to proscribe the aristocracy of 
talents. To be the favourite of an Ignorant multitude, a man 
must descend to their level ; he must desire \w\\^t they desire, 
and detest all that they do not approve ; he must yield to their 
prejudices, and substitute them for principles. Instead of en- 
lightening their errours, he must adopt them ; he must furnish 
the sophistry that will propagate and defend them. 

Surely we are not to look for genius among demagogues : 
the man who can descend so low, has seldom very far to de- 
scend. As experience evinces, that popularity, in other words, 
consideration and power, is to be procured by the meanest of 
mankind, the meanest in spirit and understanding, and in the 
worst of ways, it is obvious, that at present the excitement to 
genius is next to nothing. If we had a Pindai', he would be 
ashamed to celebrate our chief, and would be disgraced, if he 
did. But if he did not, his genius would not obtain his elec- 
tion for a selectman in a democratick town. It is par^y that 
bestows emolument, power, and consideration ; and it is not 
excellence in the sciences that obtains the suffrages of party. 



472 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

But the condition of the United States is changing*. Luxu- 
ry is sure to introduce want ; and the great inequalities be- 
tween the very rich and the very poor will be more conspicu- 
ous, and comprehend a more formidable host of the latter. 
The rabble of great cities is the standing army of ambition. 
Money will become its instrument, and vice its agent. Every 
step, and we have taken many, towards a more complete, un- 
mixed democracy is an advance towards destruction : it is 
treading where the ground is treacherous and excavated for 
an explosion. Liberty has never yet lasted long in a demo- 
cracy ; nor has it ever ended in any thing better than despo- 
tism. With the change of our government, our manners and 
sentiments will change. As soon as our emperour tjas de- 
stroyed his rivals and established order in his army, he will 
desire to see splendour in his court, and to occupy his subjects 
with the cultivation of the sciences. 

If this catastrophe of our publick liberty should be miracu- 
lously delayed or prevented, still we shall change. With the 
augmentation of wealth, there will be an increase of the num- 
bers who may choose a literary leisure. Literary curiosity will 
become one of the new appetites of the nation ; and as luxuiy 
advances, no appetite will be denied. After some ages we 
shall have many poor and a few i*ich, many grossly ignoi'ant, a 
considerable number learned, and a few eminently learned. 
Nature, never prodigal of her gifts, will produce some men of 
genius, who will be admired and imitated. 



C 473 ] • 



REVIEW OF A PAMPHLET, 

ENTITLED 

PRESENT STATE OF THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION HISTORICALLV 

ILLUSTRATED.— LONDON, 1807. pp. 182. 

J? ROM the size of this pamphlet, and from its title pag-e, it 
was natural to expect profound investigation and accurate and 
important results. The design of the work is announced Avith 
uncommon parade in an introduction of sixteen pages ; but we 
do not hesitate to say, these are sixteen pages too much ; for 
the object of the writer is sufficiently unfolded in what fol- 
lows. 

The work is divided into two parts. In the first part, he 
proposes to discuss the theory of the British constitution, and 
to examine how the theory differs from the practice. This 
part extends from the seventeenth to the ninety ninth page, ih- 
ckisive. It is very verbose, and contains nothing new. After 
a long display of old historical facts, which he seldom applies, 
and which are not always applicable to his subject, he abruptly 
and unexpectedly concludes, that the security of the people 
under the present British constitution is owing to the freedom 
of the press. We confess, we have been ready to prove the 
remarkable strength and stability of that, constitution, and, of 
course, the security of the people, by its having stood so long 
in spite of the abuses of the press. For where the press is. 
free, it will be abused. 

We are, heart and soul, friends to the freedom of 
THE PRESS. It is, however, the prostituted companion of lib- 
erty, and somehow or other, we know not how, its efficient 
auxiliary. It follows the substance like its shade ; but while a 
man walks erect, he may observe, that his shadow is almost 
always in the dirt. It corrupts, it deceives, it inflames. It 
60 



474 REVIEW OF 

strips virtue of lier honours, and lends to faction its wildfire 
and its poisoned arms, and in the end is its own enemy and 
the usurper's ally. It would be easy to enlarge on its evils. 
They are in England, they are here, they are every where. 
It is a precious pest and a necessary mischief, and there 
WOULD BE NO LIBERTY WITHOUT IT. We cxpcctcd, that the 
author would have attempted profoundly to trace its useful 
operation ; but he has not done it ; and this rare task remains 
for some more acute inquirer into the obscure causes of its 
salutaiy influence. 

In the second part he undertakes to prove, that this is the 
great safeguai'd of that constitution. For this purpose, he re- 
sorts again to history. But in the instances he adduces to 
shew the influence of a free press, he only demonstrates 
the power of publick opinion. The nation would have an 
opinion, if it had not a press ; and that opinion would have 
Avqight and authority. Before the art of printing was known, 
bad ministers were crushed by publick odium. The favour- 
ites of Edward the second of England were as effectually over- 
powered by it, as if the press had been used. The freedom 
of the press cannot hinder its being venal. Had it then exist- 
ed, those odious favourites would have used it to palliate their 
crimes. They would have bought the press ; and, no doubt, 
they would have been patriots in type, till they were stripped 
of the means of corruption ; and then again they would have 
been odious monsters. In our time this boasted luminary 
vents more smoke than light ; so that the circumstances of 
transactions and the characters of men are to be clearly known 
only by waiting for the evidence of histoiy in a future age, 
when it will be of very little comparative importance, whether 
the subject be understood or mistaken. 

Though nobody will deny the influence of publick opinion 
upon government, still it is a distinct question, what is the 
boasted salutary influence of the press ? It ?m'ghe help the 
cause of truth and liberty ; it 7}iig/it produce as well as gratify 
a thirst for inquiry. But Avho pretend to be the instructers of 



A PAMPHLET. 475 

the people ? men who are themselves instructed, or needy, 
ignorant profligates ? The xxse of the press must be supposed 
to lie in helping a nation to discern and to judge. Experience 
seems to shew, that the press makes every thing more apparent 
than the truth ; and by eternally pretending^ to judge, the pub- 
lick opinion is without authority or influence ; it is counter- 
feited by fools, and perverted by knaves. But a plain people, 
without a press, would know oppression, when they felt it ; and 
there is no government which is not supported by military 
force that would disregard the complaints of an indignant na- 
tion. By the help of the press we see invisible things ; we 
foresee evils in their embryo, and accumulate on the present 
moment all that is bitter in the past or terrible in the future. 
A whole people are made sick with the diseases of the ima- 
gination. They see a monarch in Washington, and conspirators 
in their patriots. They turn their best men out of office on the 
strength of their suspicions ; and trust their worst men in spite 
of their knowledge of them. It is the press that has spoiled 
the temper of our liberty, and may shorten its life. 

Still, we repeat, we would by no means wish to sec the liber- 
ty of the press abridged. But how it is that we are dieted upon 
poisons and yet live, we pretend not to say, nor has this author 
instructed us. 

From these deductions wc venture to pronounce, that the 
freedom of the press is not the cause of the security of the 
British people or of the duration of their constitution. It is not 
our business to make a theory, but only to expose that of the 
author, which indeed is scarcely worth confuting. But we 
should think, that the freedom of that constitvxtion arises rather 
from the distinct existence and political power of three orders, 
than from the press. The press could tell of oppression, if it 
had happened ; but the lords and commons could remove and 
punish it. 

But though we cannot possibly discover, how the freedom 
of the press can secure the constitution of an hereditary gov- 
ernment, we can easily see, how in a popular state the abuse of 



476 REVIEW OF A PAMPHLET. 

the press may fortify a faction in power. It is not merit, it is 
not wisdom that in such a state can confer power ; it is faction 
which has an interest in accumulating wealth and privilege 
upon its members, and persecution on its rivals. We know 
a country, where the press is successfully used for the con- 
cealment of the truth. Newspapers written all on one side arc 
read all on one side ; and the truth and argument of the ad- 
verse party are as little known, and have less chance of being 
understood by the other than the language of Hindostan or the 
religion of Thibet. 



[ 477 n 



LETTERS. 



TO MR. »*****, AT SPUINGFIELD. 

Philadelphta, May 6th, 1794. 
Dear Friend, 

1 SHOULD suffer a fever of the hypo, as severe as the 
fever and ague, if I could persuade myself congress would sit 
here till mid-summer. But I think we shall adjourn in three 
weeks. The heat, weariness, a desire to disperse our mischief- 
makers, conspire to wind up the session. 

It has been unusually painful and hazardous to peace and 
good order. My hopes are, however, that we shall escape the 
threatened danger, which will coincide with the interests and 
wishes of the people and the sense of a majority of congress. 
Such are the wishes of a majority of congress, although a 
number have been duped into a support of measures tending 
to a war. The desperadoes desire war ; and I think they would 
get the upper hand to manage a war. Whatever kindles popu- 
lar passions into fury, gives strength to that faction. What 
fine topicks for calumny would not a war furnish ? A moderate 
or honest man could be stigmatized, mobbed, declared a sus- 
pected person, guillotined, and his property might be taken 
for publick purposes. France might see her bloody exploits 
rivalled by her pupil, emulous of her glory. 

War without anarchy is bad enough ; but would it not also 
bring the extreme of confusion. 

Federal men come from the Northward to congress with 
an opinion, that government is as strong as thunder ; and that 
by coaxing and going half way with certain Southern members 
they might be wvn. Both these opinions yield very soon to 
the evidence of their senses. They see government a puny 



178 LETTERS. 

thing, held up by great exertions and greater good luck, and 
assailed by a faction who feel an inextinguishable animosity 
against any debt-compelling government, and whose importance 
sinks as that of equal laws rises. 

Yesterday the senators from Virginia moved for leave to 
bring in a bill, to suspend that part of the treaty with Great 
Britain which relates to debts. Thus, murder at last is out. 
Norfolk and Baltimore perform heroick exploits in the tar and 
feathers line. Here they only dismantled, by force, a schooner, 
which five British officers, prisoners on parole, had got leave 
to go to England in, having chartered her. These are violences 
worthy of Mohawks. Compai'ed with New-England, the mul- 
titude in these towns. are but half civilized. 

Will our Yankees like a war the better for being mobbed 
into it, and because also the South will not pay the British 
debts? Our people have paid; and will they pay in the form of 
war for their Southern brethren ? I do not know, that passion 
is ever to be reasoned down ; but other passions could be rea- 
soned up to resist the prevailing one. I wish our newspapers 
were better filled with paragraphs and essays to unmask our 
Catiiines. 

A LAND tax is likely to be rejected, and the dislike to it will 
carry along indirect taxes. While war is an event to be pro- 
vided against, the increase of revenue by excise is an import- 
ant object. 

* * is as he was made. His foes will say, by way of reproach, 
and his friends by way of vindication, he was born so. 

I AM sorry for the failure of the dam, and am in hopes you 
will profit by the event to make it the stronger. Success 
to you. 

Speak of me to friends, as may suit the sentiments with 
which I am theirs and your's, 

FISHER AMES 



LETTERS. 479 

t 

TO THE SAME. 

Philadelphia, December 12th, 1794. 

My DEAR Friend, 

I THINK publick life has not chilled my social attach- 
ments, nor do I see much in it calculated to draw me off from 
them. 

The last session, the noise of debate was more deafening 
than a mill ; and this, excepting in one instance, maintains a 
pouting silence, an armed neutrality, that does not afford the 
animation of a conflict, nor the security of peace. We sleep 
upon our arms. To sink the publick debt by paying it seems 
to be the chief business to expedite. That will require some 
address to get effected, as our anti-funders are used to a more 
literal sin/ring of debts. To put the debt in train of being- 
paid off, would in a measure disarm faction of a weapon. 

Events have shown the falsehood of almost every antifederal 
doctrine ; and the time favours the impression of truth. It 
is made, and the government stands on better ground than it 
ever did. But I wish exceedingly, that our sober citizens should 
weigh matters well. Faction is only baffled, not repenting, not 
changed. New grounds will be found or invented for litirring 
up sedition ; and unless the country is now deeply sensible of 
the late danger and of the true characters of our publick men, 
new troubles will arise. Good fortune may turn her back up- 
on us the next time, and if she had in August last, this union 
would have been rent. Virginia acted better than could have 
been expected ; and the militia return to all the states full of 
federalism, and will help to diffuse their feelings among their 
connections. The spirit of insurrection had tainted a vast ex- 
tent of country, besides Pennsylvania ; and had all the disaf- 
fected combined and acted together, the issue would have 
been long protracted, and doubtful at last. 

Will the people, seing this pit open, approach it again by 
sending those to congress who led them blindfold to its brinlv 
Some exertion, indeed all that can be made, appears to me 



480 LETTERS. 

worth making, \iuy more, indispensably necessaiy, wherever 
an anti is lield up as a candidate, tor, 1 venture to speak as a 
prophet, if they will send insurgents, they must pay for rebel- 
lions. This government is utterly impracticable for any length 
of time, with such a resisting party to derange its movements. 
The people must interpose in the appointed way by excluding 
mobocrats from legislation. I have faith, that very plain deal- 
ing with them would work a change, even in Virginia. Ought 
not these considerations, which concern political life and death, 
to weigh down all others in New-England ? Will not the river 
men, who are so noted for good principles and habits, give 
them support in the election which, I hear, is yet undecided 
between general ******* and *****. 

I KNOW, that men breathing the air of New-England cannot 
credit the state of things in the back country and at the South. 
They must not judge of others by themselves. They must 
remember, that for preserving a free government a supine 
security is next to treachery. If all New-England would move 
in phalanx, at least we coiild hold our posts, and a short time 
will work changes at the South. Our good citizens must con- 
sent to be more in earnest in their politicks, or submit to be 
less secure in their rights and property. 

Your account of thanksgiving has almost naade me home- 
sick—not a pumpkin pye have I seen. A Yankee is supposed 
to derive his principles from his keeping. Yet when that is 
changed, he must not flinch. 

Your's, 

FISHER AMES. 



TO THE SAME. 

Philadelphia, March 9, 1796. 
My beau Friend, 
I SIT now in the house, and, that I may not lose my tem- 
per and my spirits, 1 shut my ears against the sophisms and 
rant against the treaty, and divert my attention by writing to 
you. 



LETTERS. 481 

Never was a time when I so much desired the full use of 
my faculties, and it is the very moment when I am prohibited 
even attention. To be silent, neutral, useless, is a situation 
not to be envied. I almost wish ***** was here, and I at 
home, sorting squash and pumpkin seeds for planting. 

It is a new post for me to be in. I am not a sentry, not in 
the ranks, not in the staff. I am thrown into the waggon, as 
part of the baggage. I am like an old gun, that is spiked or 
the trunnions knocked off, and yet am carted off, not for the 
worth of the old iron, but to balk the enemy of a trophy. My 
political life is ended, and I am the survivor of myself, or 
rather a troubled ghost of a politician, that am condemned to 
haunt the field of battle where I fell. Whether the govern- 
ment will long outlive me, is doubtful. I know it is sick, and, 
many of the physicians say, of a mortal disease. A. crisis now 
exists, the most serious I ever witnessed, and the morq dan-« 
gerous, because it is not dreaded. Yet, I confess, if we should 
navigate the federal ship through this strait, and get out again 
into the open sea, we shall have a right to consider the chance 
of our government as mended. We shall have a lease for 
years — say four or five ; not a freehold — certainly not a fee 
simple. 

How will the Yankees feel and act* when the day of trial 
comes? It is not, I fear, many weeks off. Will they let the 
casuists quibble away the very words and adulterate the genuine 
spirit of the constitution ? When a measure passes by the pro- 
per authorities, shall it be stopped by force ? Sophistry may 
change the form of the question, may hide some of the conse- 
quences, and may dupe some into an opinion of its moderation 
when triumphant, yet the fact will speak for itself. The gov- 
ernment cannot go to the halves. It would be another, a worse 
government, if the mob, or the leaders of the mob in congress, 
can stop the lawful acts of the president, and unmake a treaty. 
It would be either no government, or instantly a government 
by usurpation and wrong. 
61 



482 LETTERS. 

March 12th. 
The debate is yet unfinished, and will continue some days 
longer. I beg you let **** have the paper, after you have 
done with it. 

I THINK we shall beat our opponents in the end, but the 
conflict will light up a fierce war. 

Your friend, 

FISHER AMES. 



TO MK. ******, MKMBF.R OF COXGRESS, AT WASHINGTON. 

Uedham, October 26th, 1803. 
My Dear Friend, 
I HAD resolved to write to you, before I received any 
letter from you. For a week this scheme of merit has been 
formed and postponed, till by your esteemed favour, with the 
printed copy of the message^ it has this day failed entirely. 

I AM glad to hear of your safe, though weary, arrival at the 
heaven of other men's ambition, your purgatory, where, indeed, 
you will see good spirits, with other spirits conjured by democ- 
racy from the vasty deep. Remember what I have often told 
vou, that the scene you are entering upon will form the best 
characters and display them to the greatest advantage. The 
furnace of political adversity will separate the dross, but purify 
the gold. You will have the best society, under circumstances 
to endear it to you and you to them. To serve the people 
liUccessfuUy, will be out of your power ; the attempt to do it 
will be unpopular. To flatter, inflame, and betray them, will 
be the applauded work of demagogues, who will dig graves for 
themselves and erect thrones for their victors, as in France. 

The principles of democracy are every where what they 
have been in France ; the materials for them to work upon are 
not ill all places equally favourable. The fire of revolution 
burnt in Paris like our New-England rum, quick to kindle, 
not to be quenched, and leaving only a bitter, nauseous, spirit- 
Jess mass. Our country would burn like its own swamps, only 



LETTP:RS. 48J 

after a long drought, with much smoke, and Httle flame ; but, 
when once kuidled, it would burrow deep into the soil, scai'ch 
out and consume the roots, and leave, after one crop, a caput 
mortwum, black and barren, for ages. If it should rain bless- 
ings, and keep our soil wet and soaking, it might not take fire 
in our day. 

Our country is too big for union, too sordid for patriotism, 
too democratick for liberty. What is to become of it, he who 
made it best knows. Its vice will govern it, by practising upon 
its folly. This is ordained for democracies ; and if morals as 
fmre as Mr. Fauchet ascribes to the French republick, did not 
inspire the present administration, it would have been our lot 
at this day. 

But on reading the message I am edified, as much as if I 
had heard a methodist sermon in a barn. The men who have 
the best principles, and those who act from the worst, will talk 
alike, except only that the latter will exceed the former in 
fervour. But the language of deceit, though stale and expos- 
ed to detection, will deceive as long as the multitude love flat- 
tery better than restraints, as long as truth has only charms for 
the blind, and eloquence for the deaf. Suppose a missionary 
should go to the Indians and recommend self-denial and the 
ten commandments, and another should exhort them to drink 
rum, which would first convert the heathen ? Yet Ave are told, 
the vox jiojiuli is the vox dei ; and our demagogues claim a 
right divine to reign over us, deduced no doubt from the pure 
source I have indicated. 

My health is somewhat better. I rode in a chaise to Boston 
yesterday with Mrs. A. It was a fine day, but in spite of all 
my precautions, I was caught by several friends, who tired me 
down in the street. My progress is slow, but I really think I 
make some. 

You shall hear from me as often as I can find a spirit of 
industry to write, when I am not riding, which is twice a day. 
But if I should prove negligent, still believe me, as I really am. 
Your truly aifectionate friend, &c. 

FISHER AMES. 



484 LETTERS. 



TO THE SAME. 

Dedham, October 31st, I8O0. 
My dear Fkiend, 

I HAVE this morning received by post your delightful 
treaty, and S. H. Smith's paper, and your esteemed favovir, 
in which you give me a particular account of yourself and your 
accommodations. This latter is really more interesting to my 
curiosity and feelings than the rest of the contents under cover. 

There is little room for hope, almost none for satisfaction, 
in the contemplation of publick affairs. When somebody., a 
jacobin too, drives, we must go ; and we shall go the old and 
broad road, so smooth, so much travelled, but without any half- 
way house. 

Having bought an empire, who is to be emperour ? The 
sovereign people — and what people ? all, or only the people of 
the dominant states, and the dominant demagogues in those 
states, who call themselves the people ? As in old Rome, 
Marius or Sylla, or Cesar, Pompey, Antony, or Lepidus will 
vote themselves provinces and triumphs. 

I HAVE as loyal and respectful an opinion as possible of the 
dncerity in folly of our rulers. But, surely, it exceeds all my 
credulity and candour on that head, to suppose even they can 
contemplate a republican form as practicable, honest, or free, 
if applied when it is so manifestly inapplicable to the govern- 
ment of one third of God's earth. It could not, I think, even 
maintain forms ; and as to principles, the otters would as soon 
obey and give them effect as the Gallo-Hisjiano-Indian omnium 
gatherum of savages and adventurers, whose pure morals are 
expected to sustain and glorify our republick. Never before 
was it attempted to play the fool on so great a scale. The 
game will not, however, be half played ; nay, it will not be 
begun, before it is changed into another, where the knave will 
turn up trumps and win the odd trick. 

Property at publick disposal is sure to corrupt. Here, to 
make this result equally inevitable and inveterate, power is 



LETTERS. 485 

also to be for sonic ages within the arbitrium of a house of 
representatives. Before that period, Botany bay will be a bet- 
tering-house for our publick men. Our morals, for ever sun- 
ning and flyblown, like fresh meat hung up in the election 
market, will taint the air like a pestilence. Liberty, if she is 
not a goddess that delights in carnage, will choak in such an 
atmosphere, fouler than the vapour of death in a mine. 

Yet I see, that the multitude are told, and it is plain they 
are told, because they will believe it, that liberty will be a gainer 
by the purchase. They are deceived on their weak side : they 
think the purchase a great bargain. — We are to be rich by sel- 
ling lands. If the multitude was not blind before, their sordid 
avarice, thus addressed, would blind them. 

But what say yoiu" wise ones? Is the payment of so many 
millions to a belligerent no breach of neuti'ality, especially 
under the existing circumstances of the case, when Great 
Britain is fighting our battles and the battles of mankind, and 
France is combating for the power to enslave and plunder us 
and all the world ? Is not the twelve years reserve of a right to 
navigate, &c. a contravention of our treaty with Great Britain, 
as all other nations are for twelve years excluded from a parti- 
cipation of this privilege, especially too as the increase of the 
French and Spanish navigation is avowedly the object of the 
stipulation ? 

I HAVE not yet read the treaty. I have only glanced my 
eye over the seventh article. I am weary and sick of my sub- 
ject. 

My health is bad, and is to be bad through the winter. I 
sleep poorly, digest poorly, and often take cold. I persevere 
in riding on horseback, and shall saw wood in bad weather 
when I cannot ride. I live like an ostrich or man-monkey, 
imported from a foreign climate, and pining amidst plenty for 
want of the native food that would suit his stomach. Mine is as 
fastidious as a fine lady's, who is afraid of butter on her pota- 
toes, lest it should tinge her complexion. 

I INTEND soon to try the lukewarm bath in the evening, not 
often, but occasionally, A bad digestion is an evil not to be 



486 LETTERS. 

removed. Its effects I hope may be parried by finding some- 
thing that I can better digest than my usual food. 
My wife and I join in saying, God bless you. 

Being your's Sec. 

FISHER AMES. 



TO THE SA]tfE. 



Dedham, November 29lh, 1803, 
YOUR letters, my dear friend, afford me so much pleasure 
and information, that I cannot forbear writing without ingrati- 
tude, nor write without making very barren returns. Whether 
bad health has abated my ardour in every thing, or that the 
inevitable consequence of having nothing to do with our poli- 
ticks is, that I cease to care who has, or how the work is done, 
the fact is certain, I am almost at home exfiatriated from the 
concerns that once exclusively engrossed my thoughts. In this 
philosophick, lack-a-daysical temper, I really think my fellow 
sovereigns participate. Congress-hall is a stage, and by shift- 
ing the scenes, or treading the boards in comedy or farce, (for, 
since the repeal of the judiciary, you do not get up tragedy) 
you amuse our lazy mornings or evenings as much, or nearly 
us much, as the other theatres. But in sober truth, the affair 
is as much theatrical on ovu' part as on that of the honourable 
members on the floor. Yo\i personate the patriot, and we the 
people affect the sovereign. We beg you to believe on the 
evidence of the newspapers, that we watch you closely, and lie 
awake a-nights with our fears for the publick safety. — No such 
thing. We talk over our drink as much in earnest as we pos- 
sibly can, and among ourselves, when nobody is a looker-on 
whose opinion we dread, we laugh in the midst of our counter- 
feit rage. The fact is, our folks are ten times more weary of 
their politicks, than anxious about their results. Touch our 
pockets directly, or our pleasures ever so indirectly, then see 
our spirit. We flame, we soar on eagles' wings, as high as 
barn-door fowl, and like them, we light to scratch again in 



LETTERS. 487 

ihe muckheap. Alter the constitution; amend it till it is 
good for nothing ; an\end it again and again, till it is worse 
than nothing ; A'iolate without altering its letter, it is your 
sport, not our's. Our apathy is a match for your party spirit. 
The dead flesh defies your stimulants. We sleep under the 
operation of your knife, as the Dutchman is said to have gnaw- 
ed a roasted fowl, while the surgeon cut off his leg. There is 
no greater imposture than to pretend our people watch, un- 
derstand, or care a sixpence for these cheap sins, or the dis- 
tant damnation they will draw down on our heads. If honest 
men could associate for honest purposes, if we had in short a 
fiartij, which I think federalists have not, or have not had the 
stuff to make, their steady opposition to the progress of a/ac- 
tion towards tyranny, revolutionary tyranny, might be checked. 
I wave the subject, however, on which I have a thousand 
times vented my vexations to no purpose. Peace to the dead. 
.Louisiana excites less interest than our thanksgiving. It 
is an old story. I am half of Talleyrand's opinion, when he 
says, we are phlegmatick, and without any passion except that 
for money-getting. 

Mr. Huger, in his speech on the alteration of the clause 
respecting the votes for president and vice president, pays 
compliments to the candour and sincerity of the amendment- 
mongers, when they protest and swear, that they want no other 
amendment. This compliment is not worth much to the re- 
ceivers, but is a costly one to the bestower. Roland and Con- 
dorcet always protested, that they would stop. But is a revo- 
lution or the lightning to be stopped in midway ? Mr. E. has 
libelled the constitution in a newspaper. The Virginia as- 
sembly has voted amendments of the most abominable sort. 
All the noble lords of Virginia and the South are as much for 
rotation in office as the senators of Venice. It is the genuine 
spirit of an oligarchy, eager to divide power among them- 
selves, and jealous of the pre-eminence of any one even of 
their own order. 

Mr. R. in his speech on the constitutionality of acquiring 
territory, has risen again in my opinion. I cannot "readily as- 



488 LETTERS. 

sent to the federal argument, that our government is a mere 
affair of sfiedal /ileading, and to be interpreted in every case as 
if every thing was written down in a book. Are not cei'tain 
powers inseparable from the fact of a society's being formed, 
arc they not incident to its being ? Besides, as party inter- 
prets and amends the constitution, and as we the people care 
not a pin's point for it, all arguments from that source, how- 
ever solid, would avail nothing. 

One of two things will, I confess, take place : either the 
advances of Xhe, faction will create a federal fiarty^ or their un- 
obstructed progress will embolden them to use their power, 
as all such gentry will if they dare, in acts of violence on pro- 
perty. In the former case, a federal party, with the spirit 
which in every other free country political divisions impart to 
a minority, will retard and obstruct the course of the ruling 
faction towards revolution ; and if they do not miove quick, 
they will not, perhaps, be able long to move at all. In case 
of a strong opfiosition (I use the term in a qualified and guard- 
ed sense) the federalists could Jiresewe some portion of rights 
though they might not have strength to re-assume //ower, which 
I confess I do not look for. 

Suppose an attack on property, I calculate on the " sensi- 
bilities" of our nation. There is our sensorium. Like a ne- 
gro's shins, there our patriotism would feel the kicks, and 
twinge with agonies that we should not be able so much as to 
conceive of, if we only have our faces spit in. In this case 
we could wipe off the ignominy, and think no more of the 
matter. He that robs me of my good name, takes trash. 
What is it but a little foul breath, tainted from every sot's 
lungs ? But he who takes my purse, robs me of that which 
enriches him, instead of me, and therefore I will have ven- 
geance. 

Hence I am far from despairing of our commonwealth. It 
is true, our notions are pestilent and silly. But we have been 
cured already in fourteen years of more of them than a civil 
war and ten pitched battles would have eradicated from France. 



LETTERS. 489 

The remainder arc, indeed, enough to ensure our destruction ; 
and we should be destroyed, if these silly democratick opin- 
ions, which once governed us all, were not now so exclusively 
claimed and carried to extremes by those whom we so dread 
and despise, that we in New-England are in a great measure 
driven out of them. The fool's cap has been snatched from our 
heads by the Southern demos, who say, this Olympick crown 
Avas won by them. Let them wear it. 

Connecticut is sound enough perhaps; for if democracy 
were less in that state, federalism would sink with them as in 
the other states. But their first men are compelled to come 
forward in self-defence. They are in the federal army what 
the hnmortals were in the Persian, or the saa-ed band under 
Pelopidas. I Avill not mention Vermont. Rhode-Island is not 
to be spoken of by any body. But New-Hampshire, old Mas- 
sachusetts, and Connecticut are too important to be forced in- 
to a revolution ; and at present appearances do not indicate, 
that they will join in hastening it on willingly. 

For these and other reasons I think our condition may not 
soon be changed so essentially as, in like critical circum- 
stances, it would be in any other country. We shall lose, in- 
deed, almost every thing, but my hope is, that we shall save 
something and preserve it long. 

Thus we may, like a wounded snake, drag our slow length 
along for twenty years ; and time will in that period have more 
to do in fixing our future destiny than our administration^ 
Events govern us ; and probably those of Europe will, as 
heretofore, communicate an unforeseen and irresistible im- 
pulse to our politicks. We are in a gulf stream, which has 
hitherto swept us along with more force than our sails and 
oars. I think the government will last my time. For that 
reason, I will fatten my pigs, and prune my trees ; nor will 
I any longer be at the trouble to govern this country. I 
am no Atlas, and my shoulders ache. No, that irksome task 
I devolve upon Mr. *****, and Mr. ***** of the house, and 
Mr. ***** of the senate. You federalists are only lookers on, 
62 



490 LETTERS. 

You are a polite man, otherwise you would say I have tired 
you. In that respect I have used you as well as I do myself. 
In mercy to both, I this moment assure you of the affection- 
ate regard, with which I am, my dear friend, 
Your's truly, 

FISHER AMES. 



VO MU. »********, ME.AIBER OF COXGUESS, AT "WASHIXGTOX. 

Dedham, November 27ih, 1805. 
AfY DEAR Sir, 
THERE is a good deal of ferment in Boston, and, I sup- 
pose, in all our sea-ports, in conse |uence of some late condem- 
nations by the British. It is hard for people who lose money 
to believe, that those who get it by their loss can have any 
justice on their side. When the French and Spaniards take 
our vessels, we are not very angry, because we do not imagine 
they have power enough at sea greatly to extend the evil ; 
and we expect from than no regard to principles of any sort. 
But the English captures and condemnations alarm us, because 
we can scarcely see what there is that they cannot take ; and 
they provoke us, because we discern, or affect to discern, the 
perversion or evasion of principles, admitted and respected 
as much by them as by ovirselves. 

I AM so unlucky as to be a considerable loser in the insu- 
rance office where these condemnations are felt.* I am pa- 
triot enough to lament any obstruction to the growth of our 
commerce ; and I am not philosopher enough to be indifferent 
to the reduction of my property. For some time past I have 
tried, with a good promise of success, to convince myself, that 
the pi'inciples assumed by the British are untenable. My rage 
has not risen to fever heat, and my faith has gnidually sunk 
down to the freezing point. To drop all metaphor, I am 
afraid th6 British are in the right in point of principle. 

* The writer was a proprietor to tlie anioui.t of one tliii-d of all his personal property in 
an office, whose interest was believed to l)e extremely injured by the principle asserted by 
the admiralty courts ; but his honest heart compelled him to reason against his interest. 



LETTERS. 491 

Books afford but a dim light on such a subject. I do not 
pretend, that I have much consulted them. 

War is an old condition of mankind, and commerce, as it 
is now carried on, is a new one. Anciently, the nations de- 
pended less on crossing the sea and more on the traffick by 
land than we do. Aow the articles of indispensable necessity 
to most countries are drawn from the East and West Indies. 
Navies too were, before the invention of the mariner's com- 
pass, less used, and less capable of being used, for long cruises, 
for traversing the wide ocean, and for searching and com- 
manding all its shores than they are at this day. 

Hence it is, that the rights of war, in respect to the exer- 
cise or restraint of the naval power of states, seem to me more 
unsettled, than any questions arising from the employment of 
forces on land. We are obliged to resort to general rules, 
which every body will admit in their principle, and contest in 
their application. Scarcely any doubts subsist in regard to 
inilitary land operations ; but almost every thing is considered, 
or you will find people who affect to consider it, as novel, or 
dubious, or an abuse in the employment of a naval force, when 
neutrals are concerned. We hear of a viodern law of nations^ 
and of the adverse constructions of the maritime law, assumed, 
varied, and abandoned, as interests and alliances may happen 
to inspire zeal and sophistry to invent and maintain them. 

This leads some persons to say, the maritime law has no 
principles ; an inference altogether unwarranted. The general 
principles are just, and their authority is not contested ; but the 
whole modern system of commerce and naval power is so re- 
cent^ that these principles have not been long enough applied 
under a great diversity of circumstances to make their appli- 
cation familiar and precise. 

Perhaps it may be said, the present position of things in 
Europe is unlike what has existed there in all former wars, 
except the last. Prior to the war which ended in 1763, Great 
Britain was not possessed of the sovereignty of the seas. While 
something like a naval equilibrium remained, there was neither 
inducement nor occasion to apply the British principles in re- 



492 LETTERS, 

gard to an enemy's colonies, as they are to be deduced from 
the late condemnations. While France could fit out fleets, 
and take British colonies, and intercept British trade or con- 
voy, and protect her own, she was not obliged to sell her colo- 
ny products to neutrals to so great an extent as she has been 
under the necessity of doing ever since 1794 or 1795. The 
assistance of neutrals has become her only resource for draw-* 
ing a cent from her colonies. Of course, by the superiority 
of the British naval arms, the colonies of her enemy are put 
out of a condition to assist the parent country in war almost 
as effectually as if they were captured and garrisoned by 
Britons. 

When it is considered, that all the means of Great Britain 
to annoy, exhaust, and subdue her antagonist, and fiinally to 
prescribe a peace on terms compatible with her safety and ex- 
istence are naval means, it seems to ensue as a consequence, 
that she has a right, while in a state of war, to use them 
to the utmost extent that may be necessary for preservation. 
Certainly she has a better I'ight to exist, than neutrals have to 
trade. Self-preservation is the paramount law of states as well 
as individuals. If, therefore, the rights of neutrals happen to 
interfere with this superiour right of the belligerent, they 
must yield, and be exercised only so far as may consist with it. 

Necessity, I shall be told, is the tyrant's plea. I reply, 
when that truly exists it is a good one, and for that reason 
tyrants resort to it when it does not exist. 

Before the independence of the United States, Great Bri- 
tain had it not in her power thus effectually to lock up her ene- 
my's colonies. France then also had fleets to protect them ; 
and she had merchant ships to transport their rich produce to 
the markets of Europe. Even then, however. Great Britain's 
maritime principles were enforced against the Dutch and 
other neutrals. But, since the independence of America, cir- 
cumstances have changed ; and if the change has not given, 
birth to new principles, it affords new light in the application 
of old ones. 



LETTERS. 493 

Now France has not even a sloop or schooner employed in 
her colonial commerce. She is reduced to absolute nullity 
and impotence by the British navy, as to all the resources she 
once drew from her colonies. Who will hesitate in admittius^-, 
that this use of the British navy is to the last degree impor- 
tant to her, distressing, humbling, enfeebling to her enemy, 
and perhaps ultimately decisive of the event of the war by its 
influence on the comparative force of the two nations ? Every 
dollar received by France from her colonies would be employ- 
ed against England. This is prevented by England. More- 
over, the British colonies thrive directly and essentially by the 
exclusion of their hostile rivals from the European market ; 
and the British commerce is even augmented by the circuitous 
and expensive supplies, which France ultimately receives. 

These, no doubt, are inducements for the British to exer- 
cise, and, possibly, to stretch all the maritime rights they have 
as a belligerent nation. If we hesitate to allow, that the ex- 
clusion of neutrals from enemies' colonies is one of those 
rights, because the admission would too much restrict neutral 
commerce, let us suppose the British principle unfounded and 
reject it. If we find, that by its rejection the I'ights of the 
belligerent are annihilated, shall we not hesitate still more ? 
Shall we not discern still greater difficulties ? Being reduced 
to choose between two rival doctrines, shall we not endeavour 
to test them both by their operation, and prefer that which 
can be best reconciled with reason and justice ? 

Suppose, then, that Great Britain, with a power to hinder, 
has no right to hinder the exportation of the products of the 
French colonies to any European neutral port — of what use or 
efficacy is her navy in the prosecution of the war, so far as the 
colonies of her enemy are concerned ? America, now indepen- 
dent, full of enterprise and capital, with a million tons of ship- 
phig, can buy in the islands, store in the United States, and 
transport to neutral ports in Evu-ope convenient for the supply 
of France herself, every hogshead of sugar, and e\ ery bag of 
coffee that can be furnished by the plantations, on such terms 
that the French colonies shall not feel the war. They shall 



494 LETTERS. 

not be annoyed by the British naval arms, but shall even flourish 
the more for their superiority. Depending entirely on neutrals, 
they shall lose nothing by captures, because, having sold their 
produce, they risk nothing ; while British produce is liable to 
capture, and, if not captured, to high war premiums of insu- 
rance. The Fi^ench colonist would ultimately, if not immedi- 
ately, command a price for his crops, the more advantageous 
by reason of the cheap and safe navigation of American vessels ; 
he would prosper in full peace, while the British colonist 
would feel the effects of war on his profits. His only market 
would be England, because he would be undersold on the con- 
tinent. The seamen withdrawn from the French colonial com- 
merce would be, as in fact they are, on board their men of war, 
or in the armies ; and the resources of the colonies would be 
steadily and without diminution by capture drawn by France 
into her own territory, and employed to equip flotillas and array 
armies of invasion against England. 

I CANNOT help observing, if all this be right in principle, it 
is a principle that will never be of any authority or value in 
practice. For whoever may happen to have the power to 
hinder these consequences, will surely employ a superiour 
fleet to hinder them. It seems, therefore, to be a discourag- 
ing labour, to establish such a nugatory interpretation of the 
maritime law of nations as we are sure from its very nature 
the powerful must reject. 

We claini a right to trade to the French, Dutch, or Spanish 
colonies, and to convey their produce to any countries that will 
receive it. We say, that these nations, though enemies of 
England, are our friends, with whom we have long been ac- 
customed to trade ; that they have adequate authority to adjust 
with us the terms of our intercourse with all their territories, 
the colonies as v/ell as the parent countries ; and that, as our 
neutral trafifick v/ith these colonies is carried on in consequence 
of acts or laws of those parent countries, it is a lawful trade, 
and the interruption of it by the British cruisers has all the 
qualities of tyranny and injustice. 



LETTERS. 495 

The British cabinet might, I am afraid, confound our logick 
by replying : you have a right, as neutrals, to traffick with our 
enemy to as great extent as you could before the war ; and 
to that extent we do not now disturb your trade. But your 
trade with the enemy's colonies is not of that description. It 
is not a privilege you derive from his grant, but from our 
arms. It is a species of trade you did not enjoy before, and 
never would have derived from the friendship of our enemy 
towards you. He makes use of your neutrality to escape from 
us. By your means the proceeds of his colonies become an 
effective branch of his force. This we cannot suffer. His con- 
cession in opening his colonial ports is valid and legal, as re- 
gards the transactions between him and yovi ; but as between 
us and you, it is a fraud, out of which no right can grow. It 
is a fraud, because it invalidates our belligerent rights ; and 
because, notoriously, our enemy never opens his colonies, till 
he can no longer resist that reason for opening them Every 
fraudulent deed or grant is absolutely void, as it respects third 
persons who have bona fide titles. 

If Ave attempt to answer this argument by ever so loud an 
invective against the sweeping tyranny of their principle, they 
would not fail to insist, that no principle can be less chargeable 
as arbitrary or indefinite than that which they enforce. It is 
not arbitrary, because it does not depend in the least on Great 
Britain to open the colonies of her rivals in time of peace ; it 
is not indefinite, because England even now forbears to urge 
her claim beyond the practice and course of trade before the 
war. 

What then, she might say, do I restrict or abridge of the 
American liberty of commerce ? Surely not your usual inter- 
course with France, Spain, and Holland. I allow all that they 
ever allowed, lill, in fact, they had nothing left to allow or refuse, 
having lost all power of protection or control over their colonies 
by the superiority of my navy. You may supply vour own con- 
sumption by your direct trade with those ocionics. You may 
trade with such of those colonies as were open to you be- 
fore the war. I abstain from condemning your cargoes of 



496 LETTERS. 

colonial produce, if I find it has been landed in the United 
States, and mixed with the mass of your property. A voyage 
from those colonies to the United States, as a mere cloak for 
the prosecution of the voyage to Europe, I consider illegal. 

Had this doctrine of the IJritish admiralty been early and 
publickly known, I cannot but suppose it would have been 
accjuiesced in. Why our administration have neglected or 
forborne to ask explanations, or to make remonstrances on the 
sul^ject, is unintelligible, if they comprehend our commercial 
rights, and care as they ought for our interests. 

What remains now to be done, is not for me to decide. 
Confiscation will be wicked and violent, and a non-intercourso- 
act will be foolish and violent. There is no stopping at such 
measures — war would ensue. That is not the desire of our 
rulers. How then can they gratify their own prejudices, and 
escape the curses of the French party, if they neither con- 
fiscate nor stop intercourse ? To avow, that they intend to do 
nothing, is impossible ; to do any thing by a treaty^ they dare 
not even contemplate. Will they not instruct Munroe to ask 
explanations, affect ad interim to bluster, and secretly resolve 
to acquiesce in every thing, usurpation or not usurpation, that 
shall reduce the Yankee merchants to impotence and poverty ? 
Will not the crisis by these means pass away in speeches and 
smoke ? and if Britain should lose her allies and her spirits, 
will they not then pay court to Buonaparte, by venturing tq 
insist upon her concessions ? 

It is one of the most consuming curses of heaven, and we 
deserve it, to commit the affairs of a nation to rulers, who find 
in their popularity, their rapacity, or their ambition, an interest 
separate from the interests of the people. 

My sentiments are frankly and vmreservedly given to you ; 
but as they are hastily conceived and expressed, I may, possi- 
bly, on meditation, retract them. 

Yours, Sec. 

FISHER AMES 



LETTERS. 49?- 



10 MR. *****», AT SPRINGFIELD. 

Dedham, November 29, 1805, 

Thanksgiving; Evening. 
My Dear Fhiend, 
N. is better. His leg is yet much swelled, but nearly 
free from pain, and the doctor hopes no suppuration will 
ensue. You will rejoice with us, for our revived hopes make 
a truly joyful thanksgiving. In every other respect, it is 
dull enough. 

M. and H. are at my mother's, in search of something 
more cheerful than ray house affords. They have fine spi- 
rits, and improve, I make no doubt, by their Medford school. 
My John W. sits by me at his book, " the world forgei ting " 
and enjoying a thanksgiving feast for his mind. It is true, 
he I'eads on such occasions for amusement, but I indulge 
him, for I hope something will stick to him. The habit of 
literary labour may be ingrafted on the free stock of literary 
curiosity. I will not defend my metaphor, but I believe my 
meaning is expressed clearly by it. A passion for books is 
never inspired, I believe, late, in the breasts of those, who, 
having access to books, do not feel it young. But to apply, 
to investigate closely, to study, to make the mind work, is a 
very different thing from a passionate fondness for battles and 
romances. It is by performing tasks, not by choosing books 
for their amusement, that boys obtain this power to fix and 
detain attention. 

But is there encouragement in our country to educate 
boys for any great degree of usefulness ? While faction is 
forging our fetters, the specious talents are more in demand 
than the solid. But after a tyranny is settled, perhaps, our 
Augustus will have a fancy, that learning is an essential 
thing to his glory. Nero pretends to be an artist him- 
self, and would feel himself eclipsed by the excellence of 
another. 

63 



\ 



498 LETTERS. 

Every popular despotism is, I believe, in its inception 
base and tasteless. As great geniuses snatch the sceptre 
from the hands of great little rascals, the government rises, 
though liberty rises no more. Ours is gone, never to return. 
To mitigate a tyranny, is all that is left for our hopes. We 
cannot maintain justice by the force of our constitution ; yet, 
I think, the spirit of commerce, which cannot be separated 
from the Yankee mind, is favourable to justice. To guard 
property by some good rules, is a necessary of life in every 
commercial state. 

But it is foolish, or rather it is presumptuous, to specu- 
late on the untried state of being that our degraded country 
has to pass through. 

Vestibulum ante ipsum, pnmoque in limine Ditis 
Luctus et ultrices posuere cubilia Curse 

I quote from memory of Virgil's sixth book, perhaps not 

correctly *. The application seems to me fearfully correct. 

At the threshold of our new state of being, we are to meet 

the Luctus et ultrices Cura. 

I WILL leave my letter open till morning, to inform you 

more of N. 

Your affectionate friend, 

FISHER AMES. 



TO MR. ****»*»**^ MEMBER OF CCJNGRESS, AT WAsmNGTON. 

Dedham, January 28tli, 1806. 
My Dear Sir, 

I HAVE had it in my thoughts to examine the question 
of our right to trade with the revolted part of St. Domingo, 
as it is laid down in books. And I well know, that to meddle 
with it in a loose way is peculiarly improper in a letter to 

* Virgil's words are : 

Vestibulum ante ipsum, primisqvte in faucibiis Orci 

Luctus et ultrices posuere cubilia Cui-se. 

yiist in the gate, and in the jmcs of' hell. 

Revengeful Caret and sullen Soirnvs (bocll. Djydcn. 



LETTERS. 499 

you, who spare no pains to get at truth, and hold every sub- 
stitute for it in contempt. Nevertheless, as I perceive I shall 
be occupied on some turnpike business and hindered from 
reading writers on the law of nations, I feel a desire to com- 
municate such thoughts as rise uppermost. 

Nations very properly abstain from assuming the deci- 
sion of questions of right between any two contending powers. 
Facts alone are regarded. When, therefore, one state claims 
from another subjection and obedience, which that other 
refuses to yield, and maintains its refusal by successful arms, 
no third power will constitute itself the judge of the legiti- 
macy of its reasons for so refusing. The actual possession 
of independence is ground enough for holding a state inde- 
pendent of right, as far as third parties are concerned nation- 
ally. I mean, that the trade to such a self-made new state 
is not a national offence against the power claiming sover- 
eignty over the revolted country. This intercourse is at the 
peril of the private individuals concerned, whose cargoes 
may be seized and confiscated by the cruisers of the offended 
nation. But their so continuing to trade, seems not obviously 
to implicate the nation to which the traders belong, unless that 
nation, or its government, should do some act, whereby such 
responsibility is assumed. For the greater clearness I will 
put a case. The Dutch assumed independence in 1370 or 80. 
While this event was recent, and the contest depending, the 
Dutch cities suffering sieges, and the armies of Spain supe- 
I'iour in the field in Holland, the supply of arms by queen 
Elizabeth was, of course, an act of aggression. But for a 
London merchant to send flour or sugar at the risk of capture 
by the Spaniards, it seems to me, would not amount to an 
act of intermeddling by the English government ; especially, 
I will add, if the queen had, by proclamation, apprized her 
subjects, that a civil war raged in Holland, in which she 
would take no part, and that she forbade her subjects trad- 
ing with the Dutch, on the peril of capture as aforesaid bv 
the Spaniards, in which case she would not claim restitution, 



500 LETTERS. 

nor afford proldction to the captured. The war would then 
proceed by Spain against Ene^lish traders ; and the supplies 
poured into Holland would afford no grovmd for hostilities 
against England. 

But after the Spanish armies were beaten out of the coun- 
try, and after the lapse of near thirty years without any effort 
to subdue the Dutch, the capture of such vessels would be 
apparently unjust. 

Whether the suspension of the efforts of France to re- 
cover St. Domingo, merely because of the war with England, 
amounts to an abandonment of the colony, is questionable. 
There is, in fact, no doubt she intends to resume the busi- 
ness as soon as the mare clausum becomes once more a 
mare liberum by a peace with Great Britain. Ad interim 
any national act of intermeddling on the part of the United 
States in favour of Dessalines would be an aggression. Per- 
mitting the use of force against P'rench captures may pos- 
sibly be unwarrantable. But the declaring by Mr. Jeffer- 
son's proclamation, that traders taken in such commerce will 
not be protected, in other words, that they traffick with Des- 
salines at their peril, i. e. the peril of capture by the French, 
I should think, Avould exculpate our government and nation, 
on principle. 

For congress to legislate seems to me quite another thing. 
It is ex abundantia, it is more than France can properly re- 
quire. If Mr. Jefferson should issue a proclamation, declar- 
ing the trade unauthorized and at the peril of the concerned, 
it would be left to the French to enforce the law as it now 
exists by capturing the vessels, if they can. But for us to 
extend or create rights and remedies for them ; to say, you 
cannot <;atch these vvrong-doers, but we can and will, seems 
to be journey-work for Buonaparte. As I premised, it quits 
the ground of matter of fact for perplexing theories. If the 
power of France is not adequate to exclude St. Domingo 
from the exercise of its independence, it has just the same 
right, the right of the strongest, to independence, upon 



LETTERS. 501 

• 
•which other nations found their exercise of it. It is already 

de facto, and, of course, de jure independent. 

On the other hand, if France has means to cut off the trade 

Qf that island, and to capture the vessels concerned in it, let 

her use those means. We abandon our traders to capture. 

Thus the question is left to work its own peaceable deci- 
sion, without compromitting the tranquillity, dignity, or 
rig-hts of either the United States or France. Has the latter 
any right beyond the foregoing, i. e. to a publick disclaimer 
by proclamation of all protection to those concerned in trad- 
ing, and to a faithful forbearance to form treaties or afford 
any aid, as a government, to the black emperour. Is not the 
request, or rather insolent claim of more than this an admis- 
sion, that St. Domingo is lost to France, and that the United 
States must turn the war into a blockade to starve the blacks 
into submission? Is it not saying to us, we do not merely 
ask your forbearance — we insist on your co-operation ; j'ou 
must meddle, but only on our side ? 

If my ideas are made intelligible, they seem to me of 
some use to discriminate the line of right and duty in the 
case, which line, perhaps, is to admit, that the French have 
rights, and leav.e them to exercise them as they now exist j 
but to refuse legislating for extending those rights or en- 
forcing them by our power. 

As to the line of policy, I can scarcely doubt, that we ought 
to shun a quarrel with France upon the point, if France 
contents herself with claiming no more than an existing right, 
and the enforcing it by capturing the vessels in the trade. 
If she claims more from the United States as a vassal, our 
dignity should be temperately asserted, and her demand 
civilly but firmly refused. We ought by no means to com- 
mit ourselves to the discredit of a treaty with Dessalines, or 
in any way to intermeddle as a government. But we ought 
to wish most eai*nestly, that Hayti may maintain its indepen- 
dence ; and so much the more, as the colonial systems of all 
nations may be expected on a peace to abridge our inter- 
Course with the dependent islands. 



502 LETTERS. 

• . . 

I HAVE run the risk to write these crude conceptions as 

fast as I can drive my quill, and I can assure you, 1 shall 

feel no mortification, if it should turn out, that I commit 

several mistakes in the argument. 

I am, dear sir, 

With unfeigned e'steem 

Your's, &c. 

FISHER AMES. 

P. S. It occurs to me to add, that there is some, though, 
I am avvai'e, not a close analogy between the case of our trade 
with Hayti and the revenue laws of foreign nations. To en- 
force these, one state never asks legislative or any other aid 
from another. Yet smuggling is an evil. I know it has been 
said, that the reason for this mutual forbearance is, that re- 
venue laws are merely municipal, and create neither right 
nor obligation out of the territory for which they were made. 

But, as a matter of right.) we equally abstain from the 
question depending in arms between the two emperours, 
Dessalines and Napoleon. The fact, that St. Domingo once 
acknowledged, and now refuses to acknowledge the supreme 
authority of France, is all that we know or will, if we are 
wise, concern ourselves to know. The rights claimed by 
France are merely, that we shall not intermeddle in the con- 
test ; not that Ave shall help her. 

Justice requires, that I should make it understood, that 
I claim from you no answers to my communications. I would 
sooner suppress such of my letters, than have tliem operate 
to impose a task on you. 



TO MR. »*****j AT SPRINGFIELD. 

Dedham, February 1st, 1806. 
Satui-day. 
My DEAR Friend, 

ALL habits grow stronger as we grow older ; and I am 
sorry to find, that the bad habit of neglecting to write to 



LETTERS. m3 

you becomes more inveterate by indulgence. I condemn 
myself for it, and go round the beaten circle of resolving, to 
do better in future. But what avail wise saivs against fool- 
ish propensities ? 

Happening to be in the office, pen and ink before me, 
and expecting your brother J. this evening, I say to myself, 
nick the moment, and write, or you will persist in your sins, 
and aggravate them by your fruitless repentance. Con- 
science, which will sometimes meddle against old sinners, 
speaks out, contrary to custom, with some authority, and I 
obey. 

These few lines come to let you know, that I am very 
well, sickness excepted, as I hope you are, without excep- 
tion, at this present writing. Want of exercise brings want 
of appetite, that furs my tongue and dulls my wits. I sleep 
worse, and yet am a sleepy fellow ; and on the whole have 
ground for two dozen complaints about my health, and not 
one new apprehension. 

Why did you not invite me to visit Springfield ? T/iat 
omission, some care of our ever-depending lurnpike, the 
depth of the snow, and its faithless appearance in this thawy 
weather, banish or retard the'project I wish to ripen and exe- 
cute of going with my one horse cutter to your town. Why 
should I not ? Do I not want some of your large pepper 
seed ? The dry season forbade mine to ripen. Do I not want 
to see your great bridge"? Do I not want to drink your cider, 
which article is scarce here ? How reasons thicken in my 
catalogue. Yet as they govern me just as little as they do 
the rest of this stubborn, unreasonable world, I think it 
probable I shall not go; and that on the aforesaid grounds it 
is much more proper, that you and your good wife should 
come here, although you could not find one of the reasons 
for it that I have urged in my own case. 

As you would not come for pepper seed, nor to drink cider, 
nor to see the Dedham canal up Charles river, which is not to 
be seen, I will readily admit that you both come to see Mrs. A. 



504 LETTERS. 

and your humble servant. I will not enlarge on the weight 
these last motives would have with any other good people^ 
but my vanity stiffly maintains, that they have influence with 
you. Indeed it founds itself a good deal on such kind of 
pretensions. 

Sir, I was elected president — not of the United States ; 
and do you know why I did not accept ? I had no inclina- 
tion for it. The health I have would have been used up at 
Cambridge in a year. My old habits are my dear comforts, 
and these must have been violently changed. 

How much I was in a scrape in consequence of the offer, 
and with what three weeks mystery and address I extri- 
cated myself, are themes for conversation when we meet. 
I have extricated myself, and feel like a truck or stage horse, 
who is once more allowed to roll in the dirt without his har- 
ness. Every body has heard of Mrs. A's. proposing that I 
should take H. A. if I went to Cambridge, as she would 
neither go nor learn Greek. 

Apropos of Hannah Adams. Her abridgement of her 
history of New-England for the use of schools has, I believe, 
superiour merit. I have read a chapter, and, after reading 
more, shall put my name to the recommendation "of the 
work. Young ******* ********* and others, friends to 
modest merit, have bought the whole of her first edition, 
and a second is preparing. I wish to see it in use. 

Are you sharp shooters of Hampshire ready to get the 
bounty for Englishmen's scalps ? ******'s intemperate folly 
shews the temper of the ruling party. If a step should be 
stirred onward in that path, we are plump in a war. I have 
hoped, that the sacred shield of cowardice, as Junius calls it, 
would protect our peace. I still hope. Yet this tongue 
courage is a bad omen. If we assert rights, that we cannot 
maintain by argument, and that we will not enforce by arms, 
what follows from our so early putting down our foot ; so 
positively stating, that Britain usurps our rights, and that 
we never will abandon them ? What, I say, but an increased 
and a very unnecessary propensity on both sides to war ; an 



LETTERS. -''05 

indisposition to negotiation, " the only umpire between just 
nations ;" and a tenfold disgrace, if we tamely forbear to en- 
force our claims, or explicitly renounce them ? In point of 
true dignity or common prudence this jircliminary engagement 
of our government to be inflexible seems singularly absurd.. 
Mr. Madison's great pamphlet on the m.aritime principle of 
Great Britain, however plausible and ingenious, is an indis- 
creet pledge of the government and of the publick opinion to 
maintain what we know England will not concede and we will 
not enforce. 

I COULD subjoin, that the chief labour of Madison is to 
shew, that Great Britain has no right from old treaties nor 
from old writers. He might as well shew, that neither Aris- 
totle nor the laws of Solon make any mention of Siuch a prin- 
ciple. A new state of things exists, and a new case requires 
a new application of old principles. Here I strongly appre- 
hend, the decision will be against us at " the bar of reason" 
where Mr. Jefferson, like the crier, summons Mr. Pitt to ap- 
pear and answer. How is it possible for Great Britain to de- 
fend herself, without the utmost use of her navy ? and how can 
she use her navy with any effect against her deadly enemv, 
if she leaves his colony trade free to neutrals, and thereby 
makes that immense fund of wealth cheaply accessible to 
France ? I confess I know not. But Avhy do I bore you with a 
prize question ? 

N. continues to mend. We are all well. Thank you for 
more of Doctor Lathrop. Remember me to all friends, es- 
pecially to those of your household. A kiss for little Bess. 

Your's, Sec. 

FISHER A:\IES 

64 



506 ^^^^ LETTERS. 



TO MR. *********, MEMBER OF COXGRESS, AT WASHINGTON. 

Dedham, February 14th, I8O6. 
My Dear Sir, 
I HAVE sent your letters to Mr. *****, -who, I am sure, 
will thi\ik their contents as interesting as I do. Indeed, " they 
suit the gloomy habit of my soul," as Young says in his Zanga. 
I am infinitely dejected with the view of Europe, as weli as 
of our own country ; and I begm to consider the utmost extreme 
of publick evils as more dreadfully imminent than ever I 
did before. I have long consoled myself with believing, 
that the germs of political evil as well as of good lie long, 
like the unnumbered seeds of every species of plants, in the 
ground without sprouting ; and that it was unnecessary and 
unwise to contemplate the possibilities of national servitude, 
and, more properly, of universal convulsion and ruin under. a 
French empire as either very near or very probable. Late 
events, I confess, lessen my confidence in the. military capa- 
city of resistance of all the foes of France, England not ex- 
cepted. A fate seems to sweep the prostrate world along, 
that is not to be averted by submission, nor retarded by arms. 
The British navy stands like Briareus, parrying the thunder- 
bolts, but can hurl none back again ; and if Buonaparte effects 
his con luest of the dry land, the empire of the sea must in 
the end belong to him. That he will reign supreme and 
alone on the continent is to be disputed by nobody but Russia ; 
and if pride, poverty, distance, false ambition, or fools in his 
cabinet persuade the emperour Alexander to make a separate 
peace, France must be Rome, and Russia, Parthia, invincible 
and insignificant. The second Punick war must terminate in 
that case, for aught I can see, in the ruin of England ; and the 
world must bow its base neck to the yoke. It will sweat in 
servitude and grope in darkness, perhaps, another thousand 
yeai's. For the emulation of the European states, extinguish- 
ed by the establishment of one empire, will no longer sustain 



LETTERSv 507 

the arts. They and the sciences will soon become the cor- 
rupters of society. It is already doubtful, whether the press 
is not their enemy. * 

I MAKE no doubt, Buonaparte will offer almost carte blanche 
to Russia and Austria, saving only his rights as master ; and I 
greatly fear, that Russia will be lured, as Austria will be forc- 
ed, to abandon Great Britain. Another peace makes Buona- 
parte master of Europe. 

Russia has soldiers, and they are brave enough ; and I 
should think so vast an augmentation of the French empire 
would seem to Alexander to demand the exertion of all his 
vast energies. Without Pitt's gold, this will be a slow and 
inadequate exertion ; and how Pitt is to get money, if neutrals 
take this geiierous opportunity to quarrel with him, I can- 
not see. 

If we intend to quarrel and to assert our claims in arms, it 
may be wise and right to take up our cause as we do ; for if 
England will not recede, we cannot honourably — which last 
word, I well know, is a nnere expletive, of no more import 
than a semicolon, or rather an interjection. If we resolve, 
that Great Britain shall fight or yield, and that theUnited States 
will sooner fight than yield, it is all of a piece to argue and 
bluster as we do. But on the hypothesis, that we mean peace 
in every event, the folly of this prompt assumption of our ulti- 
matum is strange. I am the more ready to think it so, because 
I expect to hear John Bull say, he is as little convinced as 
afraid. Like a good citizen, I am silent while our side is 
argued ; but I am far from thinking it impossible, that the 
question should appear to the candid and intelligent to have 
another side. If it has, I abstain from all insult and reproach 
and from all feelings of indignation against Great Britain for 
her alleged " interpolations." 

It is ever a misfortune for a man to differ from the political 
or religious creed of his countrymen. You will not fail to per- 
ceive, that I am worse than a lingerer in my fciith in the con- 
clusiveness of the reasoning of Mr. Madison Sc Co. This, 
however, I keep to myself and less than half a dozen friends. 



503 LETTERS. 

As you seem to be more orthodox than I am on this article, I 
am the more ready to applaud your generous and just senti- 
ments in favour of the Biitish cause against France. 

It has never happened, I believe, for any great length of 
time, that our American affairs have been much governed 
either by our policy or blunders. Events abroad have impos- 
ed both their character and result ; and I see no reason to 
doubt, that this is to be the case more than ever. If France 
dictates by land and sea, we fall without an effort. The wind 
of the cannon-ball that smashes John Bull's brains out,-^ will 
lay us on our backs with all our tinsel honours in the dirt. 

Therefore, I think I may, and I feel that I must return 
to European affairs. 

Two obstacles, and only two, impede the establishment of 
universal monarchy : Russia and the British navy. The mili- 
tary means of the former are vast, her troops numerous and 
brave. Of money she has little, but a little goes a great way, 
for every thing is cheap. This is owing to the barbarism of 
her inhabitants. Now for revenue a highly civilized state is 
most favourable. But for arms, I beg leave to doubt, whether 
men half savage are not best. Not because rude nations have 
m.ore courage than those that are polished, but because they 
have not such an invincil^le aversion to a military life as the 
sons of luxury and pleasure, and the sons of labour too, in the 
latter. As society refines, greater freedom of the choice of 
life is progressively allowed ; and the endless variety of employ- 
ments and arts of life attaches men, and almost all the men, to 
the occupations of peace. To bring soldiers into the field, the 
prince must overbid the allurements of these occupations. He 
exhausts his treasuiy without filling his camp. 

But in. Russia men are yet cheap, as well as provisions. 
Eittlc is left to the peasantry to choose, whether they mil stand 
in the ranks or at a work -bench ; and though the emperour 
may not incline absolutely to force men into the army, a sum 
of money, that John Bull would disdain to accept, would allure 
them in crowds. Russia in Asia is thinly settled. But Russia 
in Europe is the seat of five-sixths of the inhabitants of the em- 



LETTERS. 509 

pire, and not very deficient in populousness, it" we consider the 
extent of unimprovable lands, and the little demand for manufac- 
turing- labour. With thirty millions in Europe, Russia is surely 
able to withstand Buonaparte ; and the latter will not long for- 
bear to say to ci-devant Poland : " shake off your chains, rise 
to liberty and fraternity." Prussia and Austria could say nothing 
against this ; but Russia could not and would not acquiesce 
in it. 

I AMUSE myself with inquiring- into the existence of physi- 
cal means to resist France. I seem to forget, though in truth 
I do not forget, that means twice as great once existed in the 
hands of the Rillen nations. They were divided in counsel, 
and taken unprepared. Russia, being a single power, and un- 
tainted with revolution mania, and plainly seeing her danger, 
ought to do more than all the rest. Yet, after all, I well know, 
that, if small minds preside on great occasions, they are sure 
to temporize, when the worst of all things is to do nothing ; 
and very possibly the Russian cabinet sages partake of this 
fatal blockheadship. 

It also seems to me, that the science, or, at least, the prac- 
tice of war has greatly changed since Marlborough's days. In 
1702 to 1709 or 1710, he fought a great battle on a plain of 
six miles extent. On gaining the victory, he besieged a for- 
tress as big as an Indian trading post, mined, scaled, battered, 
and fought six weeks to take it, and then went into winter 
quarters. Thus the war went on campaign after campaign, 
as slowly as the Middlesex canal, which in eight years has 
been dug thirty miles. 

The I'rench have done with sieges and field battles. Posts 
are occupied along the whole frontier line of a countiy. If 
the line of defence be less extensive, they pass round it ; if 
weakened by extent, through it. An immense artillery, light, 
yet powerful, rains such a horrible tempest on any point that is 
to be forced, that the defenders are driven back, before the 
charge of the bayonet is resorted to. The lines once forced, 
the defending army falls back, takes new positions, and again 
loses them as before. Thus a countiy is taken possession of 



510 LETTERS. 

•without a battle, and a brave people wonder and blush to find 
they are slaves. 

Is not this invariable and yet always surprising result owing 
to the number, spirit, and discipline of the French, and to their 
almost irresistible superiority of artillery ? No arts being re- 
garded, every Frenchman is a soldier, if his master chooses to 
call him into the ranks. Militaiy means are, therefore, in- 
finite. Success and the national character have supplied the 
spirit to animate this mass. The opposers of France can have 
no such means. Men enjoying liberty will not march as if 
they were soldiers, without their own consent. They are to 
be bought, and paid for at a dear rate, before they Avill march. 
Of course, government can command means to buy only a 
few of them — a scanty force is collected, impatient of discipline, 
pining for their return to their homes, easily discouraged and 
dispersed. Why then should we wonder to see France mis- 
tress of Europe ? 

On these grounds of advantage on the side of France, I have 
long deemed the fate of Europe fixed irreversibly, unless other 
nations can be made almost as military as she is ; and I confide 
less than ever in the possibility of this change, or at least, 
within the term when it could avail for resistance. 

I HAVE never believed the volunteers of England worth a 
day's rations of beef to the island, if invaded. Improved as the 
military art now is, and, as I have supposed, far beyond what 
it was in the duke of Marlborough's days, it is folly at all times, 
and infatuation in time of danger, to consider militia as capa- 
ble of defending a country. My hope has been, that England 
would array two hundred and fifty thousand regulars, and per- 
fect their discipline without delay. Without a great land force, 
I now think with you, she is in extreme danger. 

After her fall, our's would not cost Buonaparte a blow. 
We are prostrate already, and of all men on earth the fittest 
to be slaves. Even our darling avarice would not make a 
week's resistance to tribute, if the yiame were disguised ; and 
I much doubt, whether, if France were lord of the navies of 



LETTERS. 511 

Europe, we should reluct at that^ or even at the appellation 
and condition of Helots. 

I WRITE too fast to avoid mistakes, or to correct them. You, 
I know, will overlook them, inasmuch as you permit me to 
subscribe myself your unfeigned friend, Sec. 

FISHER AMES. 



TO THE SAME. 

D E D H A M , March lOth, 1 806. 
My Dear Sir, 

I RECEIVE your letters so often and in such a series, that 
there is not the least doubt of their all reaching me. How 
undeserving am I, that I have left you in doubt on this head ! 
It is, however, some consolation, if not excuse to me, that Mr. 
***** is as negligent as I have been. He has repeatedly 
shewn me your letters, and that in particular to which you 
allude. They are full of matter, valuable and interesting ; and 
if I had been an admirer of the administration, your well-drawn 
pictures would oblige me to despise them. With power, they 
are base and abject ; and with cov/ardice and ignorance, they 
are odious. If any one should doubt the justice of this charac- 
ter, their unspeakable servility in the St. Domingo business 
would fully establish it. 

Towards Great Britain, it seems, we have courage enough 
to swagger. ******'s motion, so worthy of a Mohawk, will con- 
vince Europeans, that we are savages, and, perhaps, revolu- 
tionists. I lament the disgrace of the senate in so far allowing 
it countenance. There was a time when John Bull would 
strike, because we make such mouths at him. He, poor fel- 
low, is bound to keep the peace, and, I feared six weeks ago, 
to sit in the stocks. Sending Burr* will not alienate the people 
from the administration. They need not fear the moral sense, 
or sense of honour, or any other sense of our people, except 
their nonsense, which they will take special good cai'e to keep 
on their side. 

* A mission of this gentleman to Great Brit."»in was talked of at lliat time. 



512 LETTERS. 

The discords of your democratick leaders will raise hopes 
of good, for the federalists are stubborn hojiers. ******** no 
longer the guest of the great man's private board, no longer 
his earwig, will not be his antagonist. If he is, he will lose 
his party and his influence. These people may disagree about 
the manner or even the extent of doing mischief, but to do 
good they have neither inclination nor understanding. Our 
disease is democracy. It is not the skin that festers — our very 
bones are carious, and their marrow blackens with gangrene. 
Which rogues shall be first, is of no moment — our republican- 
ism must die, and I am sorry for it. But why should we care 
what sexton happens to be in office at ovu* -funeral Neverthe- 
less, though I indulge no hopes, I derive much entertainment 
from the squabbles in madam Liberty's family. After so many 
liberties have been taken with her, I presume she is no longer 
a miss and a virgin, though she may still be a goddess. 

It is a mark of a little mind in a great man, to get such 
people about him for favourites as our chief is said to prefer. 
******* thought himself a Jupiter, and filled his Olympus 
with buffoons, sots, and blockheads. Is our Jupiter to reign 
another term of four years ? I am at a loss to comprehend his 
ardent passion for buying territory. Is he land-mad, or is he 
afflicted with a gun-powder-phobia. Admitting that, we must 
either buy the Spanish right or take it. Reasons of the day 
may decide in favour of buying, but a million mischiefs will 
grow out of this enlargement of our territory, and some of 
them at no great distance. 

I AM flattered agreeably by finding, that you and Mr. ****** 
approve my opinions respecting St. Domingo. I have never 
seen that gentleman, but I have, as every body here has, a very 
high respect for his merit and talents. I lament, that they are 
so much lost to our country, which, you know, is destined to 
the grasp of all its vice and ambition, the ambition of its low 
tyrants. 

Our election will excite at least as much zeal and bustle as 
ever. We live in the island of Lemnos, and in Vulcan's own 
shop : it seems as if we had ' no business but to forge party 



LETTERS. 513 

thunderbolts. We maintain, that there is as much honour as 
noise in thi» happy situation, but surely we cannot deceive 
ourselves so far as to suppose there ever will be any tran- 
quillity. 

How numerous are the foes of order, and how incorrect as 
well as faint-hearted are its friends ! ! With respect and un- 
feigned regard, I am, dear sir, 

Your's truly, 

FISHER AMES. 



TO THE SAME. 

Dedham, January 12tli, 1807. 
My dear Sir, 
THE man who never flatters cannot avoid furnishing the 
occasions for his friends to flatter themselves. Indeed, their 
being his friends will furnish one. Your kind wishes for my 
health, in your favour of new-year's day will afford another. I 
was much gi'atified by the perusal of the other parts of your 
letter, but that part was not the least pleasing. In return, I 
will wish, that fortune may serve you as well as you serve your 
country, and that one of your rewards and enjoyments may be 
to see it escape from the perils to which it is blind, and the 
administration to which it is now partial. 

You describe our dangers and disgraces with so just a dis- 
cernment of their causes, and with so much feeling for the 
publick evils that will be their consequences, that I am ready 
to acquit former republicks from a good deal of the reproach 
that has survived their ruin, the reproach of wanting sense to 
see it, when it was obvious and near. Probably, hoAvever, we 
shall yet find evidence enough in the works of their great wri- 
ters to prove, that the wise and good among their citizens did 
foresee their fate, and would have resisted it, if they couid ; 
but that a republick tends, experience says, irresistibly, towards 
licentiousness, and that a licentious republick or democracy is 
65 



514 LETTERS. 

of all governments that very one in which the wise and good 
are most completely reduced to impotence. Such men no 
more deserve the reproach that their republicks fall, than that 
ships are cast away at sea ; or, if I may drop all high metaphor 
and speak like a farmer, that a fence falls, when it is support- 
ed by nothing but white birch stakes. It is the nature of these 
to fail in two years ; and a republick wears out its mov.;i 
almost as soon as the sap of a white birch rots the woo'" 

And are we not fated to have ovir present chief V ("iij^er 
on account of his inefficiency ? His whole care is t' ■>■ vvhei'e 
he is, and to do nothing to risk his place. • Unless great pub- 
lick disasters get the multitude angry \.i\h i^is uu-ji-iUung 
policy, they will like it exceedingly. The chiel^ ■ i parry, of 
course, cannot get a handle to turn him out ; and their induce- 
ment to do it is always least, when the squad of the party that 
is secretly opposed to him is the most clearly convinced of his 
imbecility. It is not contempt, it is the dread of a really able 
man at the head of a hostile party, that rouses all the fierce- 
ness of political competition. 

It is natural to ask, whether we are not hastening to the 
time when publick disasters will make him obnoxious. It 
seems to me probable, his election will happen first. Of course, 
ovu' country must remain unprepared, and be ruined, if it 
please God to permit the British navy to belong to Buonaparte. 
The Assyrian will tread us down like the mire of the streets. 
I have read the tenth chapter of Isaiah, to which you refer me, 
and I think it strikingly applicable to the French and to the 
United States. As, however, the British navy may resist for 
several years, we may be permitted without interruption to 
finish our destruction ourselves. 

I AM a little less disposed than most persons, to throw all 
the blame of delaying to resist France on the king of Prussia. 
Last fall I stated, that, imless the coalition would consent to 
make him great, they had no right to expect to make him hos- 
tile to Buonaparte ; that small powers could not now exist in 
Europe independent ; that Prussia would be ruined by France, 
if he joined against her, and the coalition failed of its object ; 



LETTERS. 515 

that he would as certainly be ruined by his allies, if the coalition 
succeeded, for he would be little and they great ; and that the 
foresight of this manifest danger would justify him, if he insist- 
ed, as a sine qua non, to be made as potent at least as Austria ; 
that he ovight to have Hanover, Saxony, Hesse, and -Holland 
added to his kingdom, indemnifying in money or other terri- 
tory the ousted princes ; and thus he would be placed to fight 
France with only the Rhine for a barrier ; but I added, that, 
probably, neither of the parties to the coalition would agree to 
his aggrandizement. 

It was not long after the disasters of Austria, before the king 
cf England, as elector of Hanover, declared to the king of 
Prussia, that in no possible event would he alienate his Ger- 
man dominions. Such narrow views, such stiffness, at a time 
which required yielding to a friend, lest he should have to yield 
to a foe, still appear to me to merit the reproach of ruining the 
coalition, and of excluding the king of Prussia when he was 
willing to reinforce it. His late manifesto alludes darkly to 
some of these facts. His gallant conduct in meeting Buona- 
parte in the field of battle was, probably, well and maturely 
considered beforehand ; yet it has turned out wrong, for, if 
he had led his army to join the Russians, the battle would have 
been yet to fight, and the event might have been different. It 
seems as if Frederick thought a defensive system a poor one 
against the French. In that, no doubt, he was right ; still I 
wish he had waited for the Russians. 

I THINK, I have formerly communicated to you some reflec- 
tions I had made on the causes of the steady superiority main- 
tained in war by the French armies, and that I ascribed them 
to their superiority in numbers, in cavaliy, and in artillery. 
From hence it follows, that fortified towns are of little signi- 
ficance, and small arms of much less than formerly. On bach 
of these heads I could dilate, but I think it needless to you. 
But the consequence of this real superiority is, that the defen- 
sive system is no longer to be trusted. Nations could formerly 
spin out a war, and tire down a foe. To conquer was, of course, 
next to impossible. Since, however, the experience of the 



516 LETTERS. 

French system has evinced, that absolute conquest is no longer 
an improbable event of a contest with France, it becomes ob- 
vious, that nations, who would be safe, must get the sort of force 
that gives to France this tremendous superiority. Relying no 
longer on a frontier of fortified towns, with strong garrisons 
and a weak army of observation in the field, they must now 
have numbers, cavalry, and artillery superior to the iiivuder, 
or mi;ke up their minds to submit to him. A navy, if wc hud 
one, might hinder this invader from coming over. F: iie 
comes, he will be our master, if we have nothing but militia with 
small arms to oppose his march. Indeed, his m irch "r .•.'!.• • .: a 
quiet procession through the centre of the states i* 
folk to New-York, little disturbed, and not ?t all r.b':Ui..^t...i ..^ 
myriads of popping militia. Such a'^ enemy cuuld get horses by 
stripping the coasts. Our patriots too vcould, no doubt, supply 
them for a good price. The light artillery they would bring 
with them ; and as the French stow men us thick in their ships 
as the Guinea traders do their negro slaves, they could bring 
over fifty thousand troops and twenty thousand dismounted 
dragoons. What could we do but join Duane in lamenting, 
that we had so long sufiered anglo-federal presses to provoke 
the great nation ? Apropos of Duane, how audaciously insolent 
he is on that subject. 

These are my grounds for shewing, that, unless we prepare, 
and on a great scale, we must submit whenever the English 
give out. 

I REALLY wish you would examine this, perhaps obscure, 
sketch of the grounds of my military notions, to convince Mr. 
Giles how defenceless we are, and how fallacious are his popu- 
lar ideas. The sing-song of Bunker hill Yankee heroes will 
not do against the French. They understand their trade. An 
inferiour army, even of regulars, would be exposed, would be 
sure to have its flank turned ; and thus a victory would be won 
without a chance to fight. With a numerous hostile cavalry, 
there would be no chance for running away. Is any country, 
then, more conquerable than the United States from New- York 
Southward ? Even our \'"aukee land, though abounding in strong 



LETTERS. 517 

posts, would be destitute of men and means to occupy and 
maintain them. My plan would be, that the utmost energies 
of the United States should be called forth to equip a powerful 
fleet of ships of the line, and to array a considerable body of 
artillerists, and a military school of engineers, 8cc. and regiments 
enough to supply officers ; the complement of men to be small. 
On the whole, a less number than twelve thousand I should 
think unsafe to trust to. 

If any fears of the danger to liberty should arise from such 
an army, have a select militia three limes as numerous of yeo- 
mmiry., encamped yearly in such numbers as would teach dis- 
cipline, and let that be perfect. To that end there must be 
martial law in the camp. 

I WELL know, that all this is moonshine, and that embarrass- 
ments in executing so great a plan would arise. The people 
would think it madness; the federalists would be as much 
afraid of arming as the democrats. I know too, as a conse- 
quence of all this, that we fall when the navy of our vinthanked 
champion is withdrawn. Fifty thousand real soldiers might 
make us safe ; and we might have, and ought to have a navy 
to block up Cadiz, Brest, and Toulon whenever England makes 
peace, and our danger from France should make it necessary. 

I WILL ask of Mr. ***** the perusal of your letter to him. 

Your's Sec. 

FISHER AMES. 



TO THE SAME. 

Dedham, November 6th, 1807. 
My dear Sir, 

YOUR favour of the 28th October, covering the message 
and docuinents referred to, reached me yesterday somewhat 
unexpectedly. I had supposed you would not go on to Wash- 
ington before November. Besides, shut up half my time in a 
sick chamber, and the other half in my parlour, I am imaflPect- 
edly sensible of my insignificance. If, however, you and my 
worthy friend Mr. ****** think fit sometimes to send me in- 



518 LETTERS. 

telli^ence, I shall be grateful. I am in the habit of thinking 
your comments better than the text. 

I WAS disgusted about a fortnight since, on reading a short 
piece tending to sliew, that Great Britain had the empire of 
the sea and Buonaparte of the land ; that both obtained it by 
force, which gives them all the rights they have, the one to 
subjugate the nations, and the other to make and expound the 
laws of nations. When federal newspapers publish such stuff, 
are we to wonder at the folly of our people ? Have we any se- 
curity, as long as that folly or worse reigns ?. I am ready to be- 
lieve, that we, as great boasters as the ancient Greeks, are the 
most ignorujit nation in the world, because we have had the 
least experience. Fresh from the hands of a political mother, 
who would not let us fall, we now think it impossible that we 
should fall. Buonuparte will cure us of our presumption ; or 
if that task should be left to some other rough teacher, we 
shall learn at last the art, that is, the habits, manners, and pre- 
judices of. a nation, especially the prejudices which are worth 
more than philosophy, without which I venture to consider 
our playing government as a sort of free negro attempt. It 
would seem as if it were necessary, that we should endure 
slavery for some ages, till every drop of democratick blood has 
been got rid of by fermentation or bleeding. I dread to look 
forward to the dismal scenes, through which my children are 
to pass. As every nation has been trodden under foot, ground 
in a mill, and purged in the fire of adversity, I know not why 
we should hope for all fair weather and sunshine, for peace 
and gainful commerce and an everlasting futurity of elysium, 
before we have lived and suffered as others have done. We 
seem to expect a state of felicity before a state of probation. 
Of our six millions of people there are scarcely six hundred, 
who yet look for liberty any where except on paper. Excuse 
me — I am teazing you with a theme as trite and as tragical as 
the Children in the Wood. 

I THANK you from my heart for the offer of your corres- 
pondence. I am an outside passenger, and should like to know 
what the gentlefolks are doing inside. 



LETTERS. 519 

My health is exceedingly tender. While I sit by the fire 
and keep my feet warm, I am not sick. I have heard of a 
college lad's question, which tolerably describes my case : 
" Whether bare being, without life or existence, is better than 
not to be, or not ?" I cannot solve so deep a problem ; but 
as long as you are pleased to allow me a place in your esteem, 
I shall continue to hold better than " not to be" to be, 
Dear sir, 

Your friend, Sec. 

FISHER AMES. 



THE END. 



>"■ 



^>' 



c. 



